


Breaking Eve

by groovecanon



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, Campy Western, Circa 1880 American West, Eve is a horse trainer, F/F, GAY GAY GAY, Guns, Gunslinging, Horses, IT'S A MF WESTERN PEOPLE, No fictional horses were harmed in the making of this fanfiction, Not really historically accurate but I tried, Old West, Remember when she wore that black hat in that deleted scene?....yeah., Shameless Smut, Smut, These guns are cool you should google them, Villanelle is a bounty hunter, Villaneve, Wild West, Yeehaw Villanelle, i know nothing about horses, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groovecanon/pseuds/groovecanon
Summary: “Sso...so, so what,” Eve stammered, practically yelling, “you’re alesbian? Is that it? Is that why you’re here?”Villanelle’s eyes shimmered, her smile turned deadly.“You should never tell a lesbian they’re a lesbian, Eve.” Villanelle paused and took a step closer and whispered, “Itexcitesthem.”Eve is a horse breaker and lives on her ranch alone in the desert outside of a small supply post in southeast Utah.Villanelle is a notorious bounty hunter.The two meet one fateful day in Eve's small Wild West town.Shit goes down.





	1. First Steps

**Author's Note:**

> So first off, I am NOT a writer. I've never written a piece of fiction in my life. I used to do a lot of academic papers. This has been really fun though so hopefully it's not horrible.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is welcome. I'm sorry if you know a lot about horses or the Old West I did this with limited research. 
> 
> Alrighty, saddle up everyone! (sorry, I had to).

She couldn’t see through the dust and grit but could feel the ground shake beneath her as the mustang whipped and bucked around the wooden bullpen. _Shit_ , she thought. _Where’s my fucking rope?_ She needed to get on her feet before an errant hoof could connect with her body. 

____

__

She hated losing control like this. Breaking a horse was an exhausting business--mentally and physically. Eve loved the challenge of it though, the transfer of power and eventual trust between the animal and herself. But right now, her and the mustang were far from trusting. Hostile was a more apt description.

Scrambling, she got to her feet and began to seek the edge of the bullpen, able to make out the bucking body of the horse as it fought to lower its tied front leg to the ground. _At least he’s getting tired _she told herself.__

____

__

The dust began to settle as the colt continued to struggle for balance, his tirade over for now--head drooping and nostrils flaring. Eve found the end of the lead and slowly reeled the rope in, getting closer to the horse--hyper aware that he could still lash out with his hooves or teeth at any moment. Her sounds of _wooah_ and _easy….easy_ seemed to pacify him somewhat. As she got even closer, gently applying downward pressure on his tied leg, the horse eventually relented and folded his legs to the ground to lie on his side with a huff.

_____ _

_____ _

_Finally _, thought Eve. She stroked his muzzle and ran her hand down his flank, cooing and shushing the whole time.__

____

____

These were the first steps. The first of many. 

\----------------------------------

Franksville, Utah was a small settlement compared to the surrounding mining towns of Wayne County. Most travelers stopped there to re-supply on their way further west in search of gold, freedom--a new life. The town was situated in the southeast quarter of the state, just south of the Dirty Devil River, which eventually dumped out into the much larger Colorado. The slot canyon terrain and scattered patches of forest were beautiful to look upon, though life in the desert could be harsh and unforgiving. The people of Franksville were a collection of former pioneer travelers who’d given up their quest for gold and took to ranching and trade along the river instead. Boasting of one saloon, one general store, a church, a bank, a brothel and a post-office--Franksville was small but established, kept safe for better or worse by their founder’s son and town sheriff--Frank Haleton Jr.

Eve lived a few miles out from town at the bottom of a cliff face looking out on the flat desert with its patches of trees and scrub brush. Mountains could be seen in any direction and the creek nearby made the land an ideal place for ranching. Not just ideal, but beautiful--peaceful.  
Eve had inherited the small ranch from her late father. He had taught her everything she knew about life and about horses--she missed him dearly. Her mother had died in childbirth and Eve had no other family to speak of. She lead a simple life at the age of 35, making a modest living as a farrier and saddle maker. But her true talent, the one most people sought her out for, was her skill in breaking horses. 

Wild horses.

It was rare for a woman her age with no man and no children to live out on her own, rarer still for a woman to be handling wild mustangs in the empty desert. She knew what people in town thought about her. Unkind things. But she also knew riders from the surrounding counties and mining towns sought her out--her father’s reputation living on through her practice. Her talents brought trade and business into unassuming Franksville, so the townspeople tolerated her independence and unconventional way of living. Some of them she even considered friends--after a time.

\----------------------------------

Every two weeks Eve saddled one of her quarter horses in the morning and rode into town. It was early May now and was a perfect day for riding. She always told herself these trips were just for supplies and to hear the goings on, but in truth, Eve was lonely. 

After picking up supplies at the package store and depositing them in her saddle bags, she headed into the saloon and was immediately hit with the raucous sound of inebriated speech, clinking glasses and the tinkling of piano keys. Her eyes went to the bar and spotted who she now thought of as friends--Elena and Kenny. 

“Eve! Oh my goodness. _Kenny, look for god’s sake. _Hello there!” Elena yelled over the din while waving a dish rag. Kenny lifted his chin in acknowledgment and continued pouring beer for the growing crowd in front of him, looking pained and uncomfortable as usual.__

____

____

“You don’t have an extra glass for me do you?” Eve yelled at Elena, her voice straining to be heard.

“Of course I do, sit your ass down it’s been ages!” 

Elena poured a frothy glass of beer and slid it expertly down the bar towards Eve while yelling to Kenny she’d just be a minute.

Many minutes later, Elena’s job as barkeep forgotten, Eve was blathering away about her horses and her subsequent bruises and how she hoped to get another horse soon to break in for a potential client. She needed the money.

“This head mining agent wants me to break in an American Saddlebred in two weeks time so he can gift it to his daughter for her 10th birthday” Eve complained, rolling her eyes. “I told him that’s completely unreasonable unless he wants to pay double. Half the time, double the pay is what I told him. He didn’t seem too happy about that.”

“Sounds like a total dick-swab,” Elena said as Eve immediately choked on her beer in stifled laughter. 

“He is! He really truly is! I’ll never understand these rich fuckers and their fancy horses. The poor things are meant to ride and graze, not stand around in some pen for a child.” 

“How do you know the kid can’t ride?” Elena asked.

“I just know,” said Eve, scowling into her glass.

Neither of them spoke for a while, both staring at the disheveled looking piano player as his left hand strode in syncopation to some ragtime tune. The piano was a husk of a thing, but it got the job done. Eve loved to sit at the bar and listen to the music and the drunks squabbling and yelling. It put her mind at peace, in a way. Sometimes the quiet of the desert could be deafening.

“Oh look!” Elena said sarcastically, pointing to the saloon doors. “Speaking of dickswabs, our fearless sheriff seems to have spotted some trouble.”

Eve could see Frank had left his bar table in a hurry, thoroughly drunk and heading for the main road that runs through the town center.

“Oh, _this _should be good,” said Eve, as she strode out of the bar, taking her beer glass with her.__

____

____

\------------------------------------

People were gathering on the porches of the store fronts now. Eve was among them outside the saloon, Elena pressed close behind her. They didn’t have to look far to find Frank and his current predicament. 

There were riders. Three of them, all standing in a line, and Frank was staring them down with his hand on the holster of his gun.

“I think….. I...I think you should leave.” Frank’s voice was faltering. Maybe because of the beer, or maybe because he was a coward.

The riders said nothing. None of them moved. Eve felt a small creep of fear run up her spine. She was actually a little worried for Frank. Everyone knew he couldn’t shoot a gun, not with any accuracy anyways. He was sheriff because he liked being in charge. His father founded this town after all, it stood to reason he should represent the law and order of it. Except, Frank had no idea what he was doing.

“I’m going to ask--I’m going to ask one more time,” Frank spat out, trying to keep his balance and his eyes on the line of riders. “What’s your business here in Franksville? We don’t want any trouble.”

Eve didn’t know why but she was stepping further out onto the porch of the saloon. She was almost down the flight of steps that touched the dirt road. The riders were maybe 20 feet from her. She could only make out the details of the big one--he was blocking the view of the other two but she could see their horses’ legs. He had a short trimmed white beard and burly torso. He was clearly armed--a Winchester 1873 sawed-off shotgun strapped across his back, at least one sidearm and a bandolier of bullets. He was riding an impressively large grey Missouri Fox Trotter. _Now that’s a lot of horse, _thought Eve. To her surprise, the burly one answered.__

____

____

“We are under the employ of the Pinkerton Twelve and are legally authorized by the state of Utah and surrounding states to seize and capture active criminals. We’ve been tasked with finding and apprehending a dangerous man wanted for robbery and murder and we believe him to be residing in the area. We seek information and a place to rest and water our horses.” 

“ _Evee, _” Elena hissed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”__

____

____

Eve turned to brush Elena off and saw that most of the town was outside now. Kenny had emerged too and was looking pale. She turned back to the riders and saw that the middle one had trotted out slightly ahead of the group. This rider was the opposite of the large one, lean and slender but equally as dangerous looking. Eve suddenly realized that they were all wearing black. Black leather, black chaps, black hats. The leaner, smaller rider in the middle had on a ringo style hat and bun of blonde hair hanging low against the back of their neck. _Wait, is that a woman??_ thought Eve. She had a ‘yellow boy’ Winchester shotgun strapped behind her back and what might be a bowie knife sheathed on her left hip. Bandoliers crossed her chest in an ‘X’ against the black leather of her vest. _Oh my god, that IS a woman_ \--

_____ _

_____ _

Suddenly a man ran across her periphery and across the dirt road to stand alongside Frank. _Oh my god it’s Bill_ , thought Eve. _Bill what the FUCK are you doing out there? Fuck._

_____ _

_____ _

“Alright, this has gone far enough. We don’t want any bounty hunters here, legal or otherwise. You’re as good as outlaws if you ask me.” He spat on the ground to emphasize his point. “I suggest you turn around a find another town to harass.” 

A baby started to cry and the wind blew gusty drifts down the main road. Tumbleweeds bumped lazily against the horse posts and the sun was starting to beat down mercilessly. It was high noon and nobody moved, everyone holding their collective breath.

Getting frustrated with this gang of riders and their insolent silence, Bill quickly reached for his Smith and Wesson, was about to lift it from its holster when a shot rang out like a lightning bolt.

All Eve saw was a spray of red and Bill collapsing to the ground, clutching his shoulder—a look of shock on his face. A cry went out across the crowd and Eve turned back to the line of riders to see the woman had pulled a revolver from her right hip, holding it steady. _She shot Bill. Oh my god she shot Bill!!_

____

____

Panic broke like a wave down the crowd of townspeople. Women were screaming and running to the nearest building they could find to hide. The men looked dumbfounded. Frank had pissed himself.

Eve couldn’t hear any of their screams, just a hum of white noise and high pitched ringing. Time seemed to slow as she turned away from the violence to see Kenny and Elena had remained where they were, frozen with fear.

Then, she heard Kenny speak.

“I know who that is.” His voice was low and quiet. Foreboding. “That’s her…..That’s Villanelle.”

“Who the _fuck_ is Villanelle?” Elena clutched his arm, she’d leave bruises there later.

__

__

“The ghost,” Kenny whispered. “The ghost with no face.”


	2. I Think I Know You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the first chapter you guys! Aren't westerns fun? So, this chapter sets up the bigger story and I expect the third chapter to focus on just Eve and Villanelle. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Villanelle stared down the barrel of her Colt single-action revolver, a smile slowly spreading across her face. She took a moment to enjoy the spike of adrenaline coursing through her body and considered her shot. _Right through the shoulder_. A little further left and she could have hit his heart, but she thought better of it a second before pulling the trigger. _I’m going to be here a while longer_ , she mused, _best just to give them a scare_. But besides that, the man had been about to draw his gun on her which she found to be exceptionally rude. Villanelle did not tolerate rudeness.

With a sigh she lowered her gun, twirling the revolver expertly around her trigger finger and landing it in its holster. She looked to her left to find Konstantin holding his head in his hand, clearly disappointed and fighting the urge to scream at her. _He’ll get over it_ , she thought. Konstantine was often disapproving of her choices. She’d assure him later that this had been necessary and that she needed to show they were serious--set an example. She looked to her right and saw Hugo staring back at her--he was smiling wide and beginning to chuckle in surprise. _At least someone is entertained…_

Suddenly, a flash of blue appeared at the corner of her eye and she quickly snapped her head forward to see a woman in a blue prairie dress running to the man bleeding on the ground. She watched as the woman removed a small paring knife concealed in the hem of her skirt and began to slash strips from her dress--hastily wrapping them around the man’s shoulder. _Interesting…_ Villanelle willed her horse forward until she was looking directly down upon the woman’s head. Her breath hitched in her throat as she noticed the woman’s hair--its voluptuous, exquisitely dark curls hanging loose against her back. _Beautiful…_.

Eve could sense a shadow looming from above and saw a horse’s front hooves come to a halt directly beside her. She stilled her shaky, bloody hands and slowly trailed her eyes up the legs of the horse, past its shoulders and higher to finally rest upon the face of the woman known as Villanelle. Her eyes looked bright and feral under the shadow of her Ringo hat. Her lips were lush and full, forming a slight grin. She seemed curious about Eve, her stare unwavering like a hunter appreciating her prey. Eve took a hard swallow and matched Villanelle’s stare, taking in the sight of her. She was dressed all in black--black boots with golden spurs, black canvas pants and button-up shirt with a leather vest. A Mexican-style poncho was tied at her neck and hung to one side across her shoulder, almost like a cape. It gave her a certain air of gallantry. Quite simply, Villanelle was dashingly handsome and alarmingly beautiful all at once, _and utterly terrifying_ , thought Eve-- _like a deadly, elegant cat_. Though it was only for a few seconds, minutes seemed to pass by as the two women stared at one another. Finally, Villanelle broke her gaze away from Eve’s and looked to Frank who was sitting in the dirt, practically sobbing. 

“We’ll be back,” Villanelle declared, her smile now gone and replaced with a blank, cold stare. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

And with that the trio of riders made their way single file down the road towards the edge of town, Villanelle leading the way. Townspeople began to creep back out of their hiding places and into the road, some to help attend to Bill and some just to watch the black riders leave. A man whistled low and said to no one in particular,

“I sure hope they don’t come back, or we’re in for a world of hurt.” 

Men grumbled in agreement and began hushed discussions of what should be done and how to best prepare for their inevitable return. Kenny appeared with the town doctor and helped to carry Bill inside the saloon, laying him out on a table to be examined. 

Eve sat kneeling in the dirt, her dress cut to shreds and her hands sticky with drying blood. She stared down the length of the road and watched as the riders eventually became tiny black dots on the shimmering desert horizon. She was in shock. She wondered why this had happened, whether Bill would survive and if the riders were actually telling the truth. Were they here looking for a criminal or were they the criminals themselves? _And that woman…_ thought Eve. _The woman with the gun and the golden hair..._. Eve stared into the distance for a while longer until Elena was suddenly grabbing her under the arms and lifting her to her feet. 

“You scared the shit out of me, you know?” Elena scolded. “I thought that woman was going to shoot you like she did Bill. Good god Eve, what were you thinking?”

Eve was thinking she had acted on instinct. In fact, Eve hadn’t been thinking at all. Her mind was blank the entire time until Villanelle approached her. And when she looked up and into Villanelle’s eyes, she thought she’d seen something more than the glazed stare of a killer. There was something else there, something inquisitive, something that said _I think I know you, would you like to know me too?_ And Eve thought, yes, she _did_ want to know. She wanted to know _everything_. And for that, she felt a hot, burning shame.

\-------------------------------

“We need to find him, and we need to do it quickly.” Konstantin was rotating the rabbit on its spit, flames licking at the meat and smoke blowing off to the south.

They’d set up camp somewhere outside of town with their backs against a cliff. It was evening now and the temperature was dipping toward 60 degrees or lower. They were used to camping, used to being dirty and tired and sleeping on the desert floor. It was not always this way, though. Sometimes they brought in large bounties that could sustain them for weeks with nice rooms and cooked food and drink. Sometimes they took to gambling or stagecoach robbing if there were no bounties to be had. They weren’t lawmen, just extensions of the law--and only by a technicality. They could do as they pleased as long as they didn’t get caught. But bounty hunting was less risky, and this was a big reward if they could find their man.

“I have a plan, don’t worry,” said Villanelle casually, shrugging her shoulders. “Besides, we know he’s here somewhere along the Devil River. We just need to find someone that knows the area a little better, maybe someone’s seen something. Here.”

She slammed a dirty map onto the ground and pointed to the river just south of Franksville. 

“I can hardly see that thing it’s too dark, can’t we talk about this in the morning?” Hugo complained, stretching his back and yawning lazily.

“Not morning. We make a plan now. It’s going to be hard getting useful information thanks to the stunt she pulled today,” Konstantin told him, gesturing his head towards Villanelle. 

“It was not a stunt I was defending myself. He was going to shoot us! I acted in self defense Konstantin you’re not being fair.” Villanelle was pretending to pout now, sticking out her lower lip and looking helpless.

“Don’t give me that self-defence bullshit, that man didn’t have a chance of shooting you. Did you see how far away he was? I didn’t even see him so much as touch his gun and besides, you’re one of the quickest draws in the West. I wouldn’t exactly call that a fair match.” Konstantine was getting truly irritated now. He flipped the rabbit again and sparks flew as the grease dripped down into the fire, the rabbit’s skin was starting to crackle and peel and smelled delicious.

“Ooof Konstantin, you’re always sooo serious. I didn’t even kill him, I don’t understand what the big deal is. And like I said, I have a plan.” She pointed to Konstantin, “You should go tracking down the river tomorrow,” and then turned to look at Hugo, “and _you_ should go down to the saloon, maybe the brothel and see what gossip you can pick up about any strangers in the area.”

Hugo lifted his eyebrows excitedly. “The brothel, eh? Damn, I love this job.” He was grinning like an idiot and combing his fingers through his hair. “I’m sure they’ll have a _wealth_ of information for me.”

“And what will _you_ be doing tomorrow while we are off on these little missions, hm?” Konstantine was pointing the skewered rabbit at her accusingly. “Will you be shooting more townspeople? More self defense?”

Villanelle ignored his taunting and held up the map close to the fire so the two of them could see, pointing to a little square next to the creek. “This ranch here is right where the creek meets the river. I’ll bet they’ve seen if someone’s been camping along it, hiding out. I’m going to talk to them.”

“Ha! Well good luck with all of that. I’ve never known you to be great with people, Villanelle. You usually shoot first and ask questions later. Case in point today. But who knows, maybe they _will_ talk to you. Just keep your guns on your hips this time. And try not to be naughty.”

“Of course they’ll talk to me,” Villanelle said haughtily, lifting her chin into the air. “I am sensational.” 

\--------------------------------

The next afternoon, Hugo headed into town. He tied his horse up and took the three steps onto the saloon porch and listened, peeking through the windows. It was a full house. He could hear the roars of men bickering and laughing and a piano player wailing away on the upright. 

_Excellent_ , thought Hugo. He wanted these people to be a little liquored up before he sat down with any of them. Hopefully, no one recognized him from yesterday. It’s not like he had shot anybody. _Nothing to worry about_ , he told himself. He took a step forward and swung the saloon doors wide open and stood on the threshold. 

The bar immediately went silent and all 50 heads turned toward the front doors. The piano player stopped mid-stride ending on a very out-of-tune key. A lamp was swinging over a bar table, squeaking on every swing. Someone coughed. Nobody moved.

Hugo, incredibly uncomfortable, scratched behind his neck and tried to smile reassuringly.

“Howdy there folks...uh, sorry, don’t mean to disturb. Just came in for a whiskey, is all. Don’t worry, I’m not armed. Just here for a drink. Yep...just a drink.”

Everyone in the bar stared him down for what felt like hours. Then a man from the back yelled out,

“The ugly fucker’s probably 90 pounds soaking wet! Charlie, keeping playing.”

Everyone let out a raucous roar of laughter and the piano player banged out a tune on the keys enthusiastically. Hugo sighed heavily and wiped the sweat from under the brim of his hat and took it off, walking slowly to the bar. He really needed that drink.

A few hours later, Hugo was more comfortably situated among the saloon’s patrons. Elena served him a few whiskeys and he found himself playing poker with a few older men at a table. He was starting to get a little drunk but then again, so were they.

“So who you search’n for anyways?” one of the men asked.

“Name’s Zipp Wyatt, part of the Wyatt gang. He robbed a bank further down south and shot a few clerks too. Took off with a good amount of money. The Pinkerton Twelve hired us on behalf of the bank owner to track and hunt him down. Last we heard, he was living along the river here.”

“We haven’t seen too many strangers in a while. Well, excepting for you folks. Your lady sharp shooter there nearly killed Bill Pargrave. A good man.”

“I’m really, terribly sorry about that sir and can promise we won’t cause you any more trouble. Villanelle can be a little trigger happy when she gets excited.” Hugo _was_ really sorry. Villanelle was making his job a whole lot harder than it needed to be.

“Villanelle? _The_ Villanelle? Shit, that’s what Kenny was saying he saw but I didn’t believe him. That woman is not to be trifled with, I hear. I’ve heard stories, gruesome ones. I can’t believe no woman could do the things she’s done….”

“Yeah, she’s done some…. _things_ ,” Hugo said softly. By things, Hugo meant killing. Villanelle _liked_ killing. It was a matter of convenience for her that she got paid to do it. He had a feeling that if they didn’t find this Wyatt man soon, Villanelle would start to get bored. And when Villanelle was bored, she got…. _ideas_.

“Right well, you tell her we haven’t seen nobody around here looking out of place. You might want to try the folks living outside of town. The ranchers and the like. They see all kinds of shit out there in the desert.”

"Hey Tom, isn't there that one lady rancher out by Fool's Creek? Lives alone with all them wild mustangs? I think they call her Eve, right?" one of the poker players asked.

"Yeah, name's Eve." answered Tom, followed by a loud belch.

Hugo leaned forward across the table. "Hold on, you mean to tell me there's a lady rancher out there in the desert running a horse ranch, _alone_?" Hugo was incredulous.

"Yep. Pretty crazy, right? But I hear she's good. She'll tame any horse you bring her. Father used to run the place, but he's dead now. Bandits got him in a shoot-out trying to steal his studs."

Hugo drank the last of his whiskey and leaned back in his chair precariously. _Well_ , thought Hugo, _looks like Villanelle was on to something after all. I'll need to tell her about this Eve woman._

There was a sound of a sharp *smack* and the crash of broken glass behind him, nearly knocking Hugo off his chair in surprise. He turned to see someone at the table next to him was bleeding on the ground, holding his face.

“You call'n me a cheater!?” a man yelled.

Another glass flew and shattered against the wall and that was all it took for the full bar to erupt--every man started punching whoever they could lay their hands on.

 _Holy shit!!_ thought Hugo. _Fuck fuck FUCKKK!_

It was a full on brawl.

Drinks were flying and men were stumbling to either get out of the way or get a fistful. Strangely enough, the piano player never lost a beat--didn’t so much as turn around. He was in his element. A man crashed against the wall next to him and somebody threw another man onto a table which immediately cracked under his weight with a sickening crunch. 

Hugo was on the floor by then, trying to crawl his way out of the mayhem. _Why didn't I just go to the fucking brothel??_

Elena had seen enough. She pulled from behind the bar her trusty 12 gauge double barrel shotgun and raised it to her shoulder and yelled,

“If any of you mother fuckers so much as move another _inch_ , I’ll blow your fucking brains out! And Charlie….shut the fuck up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeehaw. That was my attempt at humor. 
> 
> So the next chapter is going to feature our main ladies. Sorry for the wait. 
> 
> And sorry, not sorry, for making this a campy western extravaganza. 
> 
> Oh, and Villanelle is basically dressed like Clint Eastwood from A Fistful of Dollars if you haven't picked up on that yet. Obviously, she wears it better.
> 
> Comments are welcome. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! :)


	3. I Just Want to Talk

Hugo rode into camp looking, well, like he had just got the shit kicked out of him.

“Did you get the shit kicked out of you or was there a party that I didn’t know about?” Villanelle said wryly, shimmying her shoulders.

“The first one,” Hugo said with a huff as he sat on a rock near the fire pit.

“Oh, that is too bad. I guess the prostitutes did not like your penis?”

Hugo’s mouth dropped open, aghast “Um…no! I was at the saloon not the brothel. Jesus Villanelle...”

Villanelle shrugged her shoulders. She looked down to continue cleaning her rifle. 

“I found out a bit of information for you though,” said Hugo.

“Oh?”

“There’s a rancher named Eve. She’s the one you want to talk to. Her ranch is the one on that map of yours--the one by the creek.”

“Eve….” Villanelle considered the name, liked how it felt in her mouth when she said it. “Find out anything else?”

“Not really. I know that she breaks horses though, she must know what she’s doing because she’s out there all alone. I guess she has been for some time. No one’s seen any strangers in town, by the way. Townspeople seemed to think Wyatt would be living on the outskirts, like you said.”

“Guess I better head out then.” Villanelle was donning her hat and began to saddle her horse, throwing her Yellowboy into its saddle holster.

“Okay, but it’ll be sun down in a few hours. I’m guessing Konstantin is still making his way down the river?”

“He headed out this morning. Didn’t say when he’d be back. I’m not worried though.”

“Wish you worried about me…” Hugo mumbled under his breath.

But Villanelle didn’t hear him. She was already on her way out, bringing her horse to a trot in the direction of the Dirty Devil and Fools Creek.

Hugo spit and began rolling a cigarette. He looked up at the clear blue sky and cursed, _why didn’t I just go to the fucking brothel?_

\----------------------------

Villanelle made it to Eve’s ranch in less time than she’d thought. She brought her horse right up to the fence and hopped down, looking around for any signs of movement. It looked like Eve owned a good amount of land. The wooden posts and barbed wire fencing around the property seemed to run for miles. Villanelle tied her horse and hopped the gate, heading for the stables. She saw maybe five horse stalls, all occupied by beautiful looking horses. She stopped to stroke one on its nose, stopped to breath in that familiar scent of hay and manure. _Maybe she’s in the house?_ She walked behind the stable and found the ranch house, a modest thing made of wood and a brick chimney. She knocked on the door and there was no answer. Shrugging her shoulders, she deftly picked the lock and opened the door--sticking her head inside. No one was home. _She must be out with one of her horses_ , she thought. 

Villanelle was on her horse again, this time following the creek that ran along Eve’s ranch. She was walking in the shadow of one of the many tributary canyons that surrounded Franksville. The landscape was high desert, with scattered yucca plants and saltbrush and various kinds of hearty cacti. The area was good for ranching and grazing thanks to the introduction of the invasive Cheatgrass. It was impressive what abundance of plant life could survive out here. 

After a few miles, Villanelle entered a scattered forest of Pinyon Pine. She could hear shots now, most likely from a rifle--and they weren’t far off. Villanelle walked her horse to the edge of the small forest and hopped down. She led her horse by the reins on foot under cover of the giant scrub brush, moving slowly and carefully, closing in on the sounds of the blasts. So far she had counted 12 shots, which meant the shooter would need to stop and reload. 

Villanelle crept low in order to see through the brush and could just about make out the shape of a woman. The shooter turned, holding a rabbit--it was enough for Villanelle to make out her face. Villanelle stifled a gasp. It was the woman from the road, the woman with the amazing hair. The one who tore her dress and had stared into Villanelle’s eyes.

Villanelle’s pulse quickened and knots turned in her stomach. She had to get closer. 

\----------------------------------

Eve had successfully shot three rabbits so far that afternoon. Two carcasses hung from her horse’s saddle and she was stringing up the third when she heard a loud snap of a twig. She quickly spun around and found herself mere feet from the woman in black--Villanelle. She had on a wide smile, like she couldn’t be more delighted. It was unnerving and Eve was terrified.

“What the fu--”

“Are you Eve?” Villanelle asked excitedly, cutting her off. She was wearing the same clothes as the day before but this time she didn’t carry a bandolier of bullets across her chest. Eve could see under the poncho that Villanelle was still armed with a revolver and the same bowie knife. Villanelle’s horse walked from behind the brush to stand beside her and Eve was amazed to see it was a black and white Appaloosa--black torso with a speckled white and black rear. _How in the world did she get a horse like that?_ , Eve couldn’t help but think. She quickly returned her thoughts to the dangerous woman standing before her and decided not to take any chances.

“Don’t move, or I’ll shoot.” Eve cocked the rifle and leveled it to her eye, aiming directly at Villanelle’s chest.

“No you won’t…” Villanelle said playfully, rolling her eyes. She was grinning with the utmost bravado, her eyes bright and excited. She stood there with a hand on her hip and the other on the handle of her revolver. 

“I will too!” _Cocky little shit._

“No….you _can’t_. You’re a good shot, Eve, but you’re not _that_ good.”

“Oh my god will you please just shut up!” Eve was getting pissed now. “I could hit anything from this distance.”

“Yeah...but Eve,” Villanelle sighed, “you’re out of ammo.”

_Shit._

Eve spun around, shoved the rifle into her saddle holster and threw her foot into a stirrup, hauling herself onto her horse.

“Hey!!” Villanelle yelled after her. “Wait!! I just want to—”

And Eve was gone, spurring her horse into an all out sprint.

“Fucking hell,” Villanelle cursed under her breath, running to her horse. She pulled herself up and gave the horse’s backside a hard slap. “Yah!” The Appaloosa bucked its front legs in surprise and frustration but Villanelle quickly gained control, spurring him hard in the flanks and the chase was on.

Eve was already a great distance away, a cloud of dust leaving a trail in her wake. She was riding one of her Mustangs that she had years earlier broke-in and decided to keep. Her name was Black-Jack and she was beautiful. Her coat was a light sorrel with a jet black mane. She was still fairly wild, but Eve had a way with her. You could never fully break a wild Mustang, there would always be a flicker of wildfire in them. People called them ‘hot horses’ for a reason. When you really set them loose, they could run at incredible speeds and hard without tiring for a great while. The sensation was exhilarating, like flying. 

And Eve was flying now, the desert canyons rising around her in dusty reds and purples, sagebrush whipping by like clouds. The sun was beginning to set and the desert was coming alive with color. Eve closed her eyes and let the horse run and run and run. She felt like a god, unstoppable--like nothing could ever catch her, not even her fear. 

After what felt like miles, hair blowing wildly, she turned to sneak a glance behind her. 

To her surprise, Villanelle was not far behind and she was gaining. Eve now suddenly remembered that Appaloosas were the Nez Perce tribe’s horses, bread for war and running down wild buffalo. Eve couldn’t wrap her mind around how Villanelle had acquired such a horse but it was fast--too fast. Eve’s own horse was starting to pant, she had maybe another five miles in her before she’d need to slow down to a canter. Eve decided to turn Black-Jack towards the river. Her only hope was that Villanelle’s horse was not fond of crossing swift, deep currents. It was dangerous but Eve’s horse had done this many times; it seemed like her only option.

Eve took another glance back and was horrified to see that Villanelle was mere feet behind her. She had a hardened look of focused determination—her torso laid low on the horse’s withers and her face rested against its mane to lessen wind resistance. The black of Villanelle’s clothing blended perfectly with the Appaloosa’s black torso--almost forming one seamless creature. And it was galloping toward Eve swiftly.

Eve couldn’t push her horse any faster, all she could do was hold out until the river. She could see it up ahead, glimmering in the setting sun. But then Villanelle appeared right beside her, their horses neck and neck, both horses galloping in stride. She was mere inches away--she could reach out and touch Eve if she wanted. And suddenly, Villanelle was sitting side-saddle, her body facing Eve’s horse. There was a wild look in her eyes. She reached out and grabbed Eve’s right shoulder, using it as leverage and pushed off the Appaloosa’s flank with her feet. Villanelle was airborne for only a second before she landed in the saddle directly behind Eve and wrapped her left arm tightly around Eve’s waist. Eve didn’t know what was happening until she saw Villanelle reach for the reins with her free hand and pull up. 

Eve’s horse slowed, desperate for relief. Villanelle’s chest was pressed tightly against Eve’s back, her arm still wrapped tightly around her. She could feel Villanelle’s chest rise and fall with her breath, could smell her sweat and something sweeter. 

Just as Eve’s horse settled into a trot, Villanelle’s face pressed against Eve’s hair and she whispered, “I just want to talk.” Eve felt a flutter in her chest, she didn’t know if it was from fear or maybe something else entirely. She felt warm and safe—feelings that made absolutely no sense to her, given the situation. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. But then there was a flash of Bill in her mind, of him bleeding out in the road. And suddenly, she was filled with rage.

“ _Oof_.” Villanelle was falling from the saddle. Eve had elbowed her hard, just below the ribs. But before she hit the ground she grabbed Eve’s ankle. It was enough to pull Eve down with her. They both landed with their faces in the dirt, groaning from the fall.

Eve was on her hands and knees spitting and coughing out dirt trying to orient herself. Villanelle was directly next to Eve on her back catching her breath. She knew Eve would try and run again, so she rolled over and pushed Eve to the ground, straddled her waist and pinned her wrists up above her head.

“I JUST WANT TO HAVE DINNER... WITH YOU!.....OKAY!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a shorter chapter and it's been a while since I last updated. I've been going through some hard shit--my cat died unexpectedly a week ago. So yeah.... but I plan on continuing to write this if everyone is still interested. It's been a good distraction for me. 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated. Let me know what you think. :)


	4. God's Country

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week’s episode soundtrack features “Shark Smile” by Big Thief  
> [Listen Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1QlOfYxykI) if you want.

\---------------------

Dusk was creeping over the Great Basin Desert, lazy in its pursuit of night. Juniper and Pinyon Pine formed black silhouettes against a sky bright with orange clouds haloed in purples and blues. Stars began to appear as the sun sank behind the Abajo mountains casting the desert into the heart of twilight. Eve took in the sight of it all, breathed slowly as the fire danced heat across her skin. Her arms were wrapped around her knees and cradled her head as she watched the light slowly, slowly disappear. It wasn’t until the stars were fully shining that she turned her head to regard the figure of Villanelle kneeling over the fire.

She had been hard at work, skinning and cleaning the rabbits--stripping the meat and building a cook fire, hauling water from the nearby river. She’d come prepared with a trivet and a small cast iron pot, tin bowls and tin spoons. She was making a rabbit stew with beans, some carrots, and a potato. It was simple cowboy fare but Eve had to admit she was starving, and it smelled pretty damn good. 

“Hungry?” Villanelle asked, offering a bowl to Eve. Her hat was off and Eve could make out the braids tying her hair back into a low ponytail, the fire casting shadows across her face and her devilishly alluring shark smile. 

Eve didn’t say anything, didn’t make eye-contact but took the bowl and began to blow on a spoonful to cool it down. Villanelle made herself a bowl and sat next to Eve on the Navajo blanket she'd brought with her. 

Villanelle stared down at her food for a moment before turning to Eve.

“You know, a ‘thank you’ would be nice.” 

She sounded almost-hurt.

“Thanks?” Eve put a spoonful into her mouth and began to eat.

“That was not a real thank you, Eve,” Villanelle chastised. 

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for taking me and my horse hostage in the middle of the desert. Thank you soooo much for that.” 

Eve knew she was pushing her luck, but the gall Villanelle had...she wasn't about to just cooperate after what she did to Bill and that stunt jumping onto her horse. She had a lot of nerve…

Villanelle looked down at her food and sighed.

“I’m not holding you hostage, Eve. You can leave any time you like, though I wouldn’t advise it without a lantern. Not to mention the mountain lions and coyotes….”

“Why am I here, Villanelle?” Eve cut her off, she was tired. So tired. She just wanted to get through this, whatever _this_ was.

“I just want to talk, ok? You might be able to help me catch my mark. And look, I’m sorry about your friend…”

“Bull-shit you’re sorry.” Eve’s voice cracked as she said it. She didn’t know Villanelle well at all but knew enough to guess that Villanelle never apologized for anything—at least, never meant it.

“Ok, fine, maybe I’m not.” Villanelle’s brow furrowed. “But I _am_ sorry that he is your friend. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Eve, but he was being very rude.” Villanelle grabbed Eve’s hand and squeezed, as if she could communicate an apology better through touch. “It’s not like he died, right? I only aimed to teach him a lesson.”

Eve, appalled, slapped her hand away and moved to the very edge of the blanket, staring daggers into her bowl of stew. She was so angry she could feel tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, but she’d be damned if she let that happen in front of this woman.

“Why do you think I can help you?” Eve’s words came out flat, hard edged. She was done talking about Bill. 

Villanelle began eating, taking her time to answer. She stared at Eve as she ate, trying to figure her out. Eve _was_ being rude but Villanelle was actually enjoying this little game. Eve wasn’t as soft as she seemed, she wasn’t going to make anything easy which piqued Villanelle’s interest immensely. And tonight, Eve certainly looked harder—instead of a prairie dress she was wearing canvas trousers with leather cowboy boots and a button-up work shirt. The top three buttons were undone revealing sharp collar bones and a small turquoise necklace that hung low between her breasts. Villanelle got a thrill out of seeing that, not to mention the hair—

“Villanelle?” 

“Mm..?” Villanelle was pulled out of her trance. She took a hard swallow of her food.

“You’re staring at me….”

“Oh...I….uh, I really like your hair,” she mumbled sheepishly. 

“Ok….” Eve could feel a smile forming at the corner of her mouth but she pushed it down. She was supposed to be mad and insolent, not flattered. “You were going to ask me something about your….job.”

“....yeah, I’m looking for a man named Wyatt. Zipp Wyatt.”

Villanelle continued to eat her dinner, methodically chewing. She was feeling disheartened, or maybe just tired. She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t great at understanding her feelings, but she knew she wasn’t feeling…. _good_. Maybe it was boredom? She shouldn't have mentioned Bill. She sighed, the fun now seemingly over, and got down to business.

“I’m wondering if you’ve seen anyone camping around here by the river or the creek, someone that doesn’t belong? His only real distinguishing feature is an eye patch and surprisingly he’s a really good shot for one eye. He’ll be armed and extremely dangerous.”

“I may have seen a man recently that fits that description….” Eve was looking down at her hands. She _knew_ she’d seen him. It had been a week ago when she was mending fences on her property. 

“Are you going to tell me where he is?” Villanelle asked, eyebrows raised.

Eve couldn’t suppress her grin any longer. She looked up from her hands and directly into Villanelle’s eyes and said with finality, “No.”

“No??” Villanelle began to giggle. “Eve, are you serious?” Her shark smile was back, flashing white from the glare of the fire. 

“I’ll tell you. But since I’m stuck here, you’re going to answer _my_ questions first.”

Villanelle’s heart started to race. This was fun again. This was--this was NOT boring. And Eve….Eve was _smiling_ at her. 

“Sure Eve. What do you want to know?” Villanelle sat up a little straighter.

Eve pointed with her spoon in the direction where their horses stood. “First off, where the hell did you get that horse?”

Villanelle looked toward her Appaloosa. She’d tied both the horses under a tree next to the river. 

“Oh….Saxano? He was a gift. I fought in the Nez Perce war, on the side of the Indians. It was years ago, in Idaho.”

“You fought _for_ them?” 

“Yeah, I lived with them for a while and then the war came and I just….fought alongside them. They gave me Saxano as a way of saying thank you.”

“That’s…..insane.”

Villanelle shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve done many things people would call insane”.

Eve began to eat the rest of her dinner. It was good, and she hated that it was good. Barring the fact that Villanelle was insane and an asshole, Eve couldn’t help but be fascinated and a little charmed by her (and she hated that, too). She realized then that Villanelle was a lot younger than her. Maybe 25? And though she (again) hated to admit it, Villanelle was truly lovely to look upon in the glow of the fire. Eve couldn’t deny that attraction, but she was going to try her damnedest to ignore it. She wasn’t doing a great job, however, because her eyes kept flicking up to steal glances when Villanelle was looking away.

“Why do they call you the ghost with no face?”

Villanelle gave a little laugh. “Who told you that? I guess my reputation precedes me, even out here.” She paused for a moment, catching Eve looking at her. Eve quickly averted her eyes to stare at the fire. Villanelle smiled to herself and continued, “I guess I got that name from when I used to rob trains and stagecoaches. I did it alone, just me and Saxano. I’d wear a black bandana over my face and my hat low so all you could see were my eyes and I’d cover my neck with a black silk cravat.” Villanelle leaned back on her hands, reminiscing. “I guess from afar you couldn’t really see me on my horse, what with all the black. And _if_ anyone caught sight of me they couldn’t see my face, obviously. That, and I was quick and quiet. I didn’t like to make a scene, maybe slit the throat of a conductor or a guard and make off with the loot as quickly as possible. I didn’t usually get caught in a shoot-out, though if it happened, I was more than happy to oblige them. But most passengers never knew I was there until I was long gone with the goods.”

“So you’re an outlaw, then.” 

“Yes,” Villanelle cocked her head to one side in consideration, “ I suppose I am. Sometimes a bounty hunter, sometimes both. Does that scare you?”

“No.”  
_But it should scare me. Why am I still here and not running for home? If I had any doubts before, she just confirmed to me that she’s a murderer_.

“You love saying no to me, don’t you?” Villanelle stood and began throwing more wood on the fire. It caused the coals to hiss and pop violently. “Is this your way of flirting with me, Eve?”

“I…..”

“Because if so, I’m enjoying it.”

The fire continued to crackle, growing warmer and brighter now from the added fuel. Villanelle was on her knees in front of the flames, sitting on her heels. Her back was to Eve, waiting for a reply. None came. Villanelle closed her eyes and let the warmth flow over her greedily.

“He’s hiding in Robber’s Roost Canyon,” Eve said suddenly, after minutes of silence, “and I think there’s two other men with him.” 

Villanelle turned around. “...it’s really called that?” She chuckled to herself.

“Yeah, it is. Look, the gold rush travelers didn’t really bring much creativity with them when they started naming things they found out here.”

“A little on the nose though, don’t you think?” Villanelle was trying to be playful again. She knew she’d crossed a line earlier. She’d cross it again in time, though.

“There’s been a few groups of outlaws who have camped out there. The name fits.” Eve shrugged her shoulders.

“Such a strange place you live in. Why not live in an actual town, a city? It’s so ...desolate here. And robbers hiding in _roosts_ …”

Eve ignored her teasing. But some part of her wanted Villanelle to understand…..  
“It took a while to settle this place, so many had tried and failed and abandoned what was started. My father was one of the first to successfully run a ranch here. It was difficult, agonizing work—practically impossible terrain. They started to refer to the land as God’s Country.” Eve’s voice had a touch of melancholy, she empathized with these forgotten settlers.

“Oh, and why’s that?” Villanelle crawled back to the blanket, sitting close to Eve but not _too_ close.

Eve set her bowl down and lay on her back, looking up at the night sky and sighed. 

“They called the land God’s Country because no one else would have it but God.”

\---------------

Villanelle threw the rest of the wood she’d gathered onto the fire and they settled in for the night. Eve was lying as far away from Villanelle as she could get. They’d got another blanket from Villanelle’s pack to drape over them. It was getting quite cold, even with the fire.

“You know, we’d be a lot warmer if we slept closer together…” Villanelle said casually.

“Don’t.”

Villanelle was lying on her side facing Eve, her head propped up on her elbow. She watched as Eve pretended to sleep. “Suit yourself.” She returned to lying on her back, looking up at the stars.

Minutes went by before Villanelle found the courage to whisper, “Eve?”

“.....yeah?”

“I really am sorry.”

Eve let the words hang in the air. She knew Villanelle wasn’t sorry in the way Eve would be sorry if she shot someone. Villanelle was sorry because Eve didn’t like her, sorry that she had hurt Eve by hurting someone she cared about. 

Eve let out a sigh and relented, “I know. Go to sleep, Villanelle.”

Neither of them spoke after that. The desert was quiet yet alive with activity. Animals scurrying, coyotes howling in the distance, the fire crackling and hissing contently. Eve’s mind wasn’t quiet though. She couldn’t stop replaying the night’s conversation. She still had so many questions, she was aching to know why Villanelle was who she was, what made her that way? But most of all, she couldn’t understand why Villanelle seemed to care so much about her—that she wanted to cook her dinner and wanted Eve to like her. Why? Why would a killer care what anyone thought about them, let alone Eve? And her playfulness—there were so many contradictions to this woman, and if Eve was really being honest with herself, she was starting to care about her too. Something within Eve was starting to crack, and it both terrified and excited her.

“Villanelle?” Eve whispered.

“Mm..?” 

Eve sighed, she hoped she wouldn’t regret this. “Thank you—thank you for dinner.”

Villanelle smiled to herself, her eyes shut tight and her chest swelled. 

“You’re welcome, Eve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to thank everyone for their kind words last week about my cat's passing. I was truly overwhelmed by how kind complete strangers could be on the internet. Thank you again.
> 
> Second, if anyone is curious or a nerd like me, a lot of these places I'm mentioning are real places in Utah. I changed Hanksville, UT to Franksville and messed with a little of the geography but that's about it. Robbers Roost is pretty famous for being the hide-out of Butch Cassidy and his outlaw gang. Also, southeast Utah is fucking beautiful, holy shit. I'm gunna go.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments always welcome. :)


	5. Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof this took a while. Hope it's not shit.

\-----------------------------------

The early morning sun woke Eve slowly. She felt comfortable and warm under the wool blanket, sleep still clinging to her body greedily. She didn’t want to wake up just yet, she wanted to bask in the warmth around her a little longer. So she dove further into that warmth, snuggled her head and nose further into soft hair and wrapped her arm tighter around---

_OH MY GOD._

Eve’s eyes shot wide open. She was staring at Villanelle’s golden hair, her nose pressed against the back of her head and her lips resting at the base of her neck. She smelled heavenly, like campfire and tobacco. And _Oh God…._ Eve’s entire body was tightly pressed against Villanelle, her arm drawn tight around Villanelle’s waist and _sweet Jesus_ her knee, her knee was tucked under Villanelle’s ass, almost parting her thighs. Eve lay there, frozen with shock--not daring to move. Not daring to breathe. _How the fuck did this happen??_ And just when Eve thought she couldn’t be more horrified at her situation, Villanelle snuggled her ass further back into Eve, letting out a small whine and continued to sleep. Eve couldn’t help but feel a heat bloom between her legs. _Fuck._

Eve was trying hard not to panic. _This can’t be real, this can’t be happening…_. Eve craned her neck to the right to look behind her and saw she had indeed abandoned her end of the blanket completely and had somehow found her way to Villanelle’s side and had--- _fucking spooned her?!_ at some point during the night.

_This is bad. This is so so bad. I can not be here when she wakes up, I can’t._

Eve carefully and very slowly removed her right arm from Villanelle’s waist and gently untucked her knee. She held her breath the entire time until she rolled away and was back on her original side of the blanket. Eve’s heart was racing, she looked back to Villanelle to make sure she was still asleep. _Did she know what happened? Did she wake in the middle of the night to find me holding her?_ Eve burned with embarrassment even thinking about that possibility. She wasn’t going to stick around to find out. 

Eve got up, painfully--sleeping on the ground was not a pleasant experience--and made her way to her horse, still tied to the tree. She rested her head against Black Jack’s shoulder for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Saxano huffed next to her, also wanting attention. Eve stared at the powerful Appaloosa and wondered when she would see him again, if ever. _Villanelle has her information now, she’ll collect her bounty and be on her way in a day or two_. She felt relieved that her life could return to normal soon. Villanelle had come into her life like a burning stick of dynamite. And Eve worried that the fuse still hadn’t reached it’s end. 

“Goodbye Saxano,” Eve said while stroking his nose. “Your mom is insane,” Eve whispered into his ear. Saxano blinked slowly and stamped his front hoof. “Great, I just wanted to make sure you knew.” Eve laughed, shaking her head. She then untied her horse and rode swiftly away in the direction of her ranch—refusing to look back.

\-------------------------------------

Villanelle rode into camp in the late morning to find Hugo and Konstantin fixing breakfast over the fire.

“Ha! There she is! Our fearless Kill Commander.” Konstantin punched Hugo in the shoulder and pointed. “We weren’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Ouch, Christ!” Hugo rubbed his shoulder and looked up at Villanelle, still sitting atop her horse. “Where’ve you been? You left me all alone out here in the desert. Konstantin showed up in the middle of the night and I almost shot him!”

Konstantin smacked Hugo hard on the back laughing and said “But you didn’t, did you! You should have seen your face.”

“Jesus, will you stop hitting me? Fucking bastard...” 

“Oh grow up, you big baby,” Konstantin teased as he smacked Hugo in the back of the head, belly laughing with delight.

“I’m glad to see everyone is in a good mood this morning,” Villanelle said as she hopped down from her horse. “I’m about to make it even better.”

Hugo, still rubbing the back of his head asked, “Yeah? You find that lady rancher? She tell you anything good?”

Villanelle reached for the coffee pot next to the fire and poured herself a mug. “Yes, lots of things.” She was grinning like an idiot.

“Ugh, Villanelle, you didn’t…. _did_ you?” 

“Didn’t _what_?” she snapped at Hugo, “sleep with her?” She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to say something stupid.

“Well… yeah.” Hugo muttered.

“Well, I didn’t. I am a gentleman Hugo, I merely commandeered her horse, took her hostage, and made her dinner.” 

“You did what?!” Konstantine was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

“She was a little hostile at first but I think she warmed up to me.” _Maybe literally,_ Villanelle thought. That morning, Villanelle woke with the strangest feeling that Eve had held her as they slept, but that wasn’t possible. It was probably just a dream. She shook her head, trying to focus. “Anyways, she told me where to find Wyatt. He’s hiding in Robber’s Roost Canyon, and it sounds like his whole gang is there with him.”

“It’s really called that?” Hugo scrunched his nose.

“Who cares what it’s called. If Wyatt’s entire team is there, we’ve got a big problem,” Konstantin said seriously.

“Not if we’re smart and not if we’re careful,” Villanelle said with confidence. “I have a plan.”

\---------------------------------

Corona was putting up a good fight, not that Eve thought of this as fighting. The horse was stubborn and had already lapped the pen by at least a miles worth of distance and she was still not interested in getting close to Eve.

The goal today was to saddle Corona for the first time. Eve had already got her used to her voice, used to wearing a bitless bridle and being led by a line. Eve was holding a long line now, watching as Corona circled the bullpen at an even trot. Eve would make a click with her mouth and sometimes Corona would change direction to counter clockwise but never closing the distance toward Eve. She _was_ listening though. One ear faced out toward the landscape but each time Eve spoke or clicked, Corona’s inner ear would point in the direction of Eve. This was a good sign, at least. Eve decided not to rush things. The entire point of this exercise was to build trust. 

Eve held the long line and let Corona continue to trot around the pen as her mind began to wander. She was still shaken by what had happened this morning--she couldn’t believe how her unconscious self could be so obvious. Eve felt betrayed by her own body. She cursed herself for her lack of self-control, cursed herself for how her body still ached for that earlier contact. Eve knew something would have to give. She knew herself well enough to understand she couldn’t suppress her wants forever, even if her wants were frowned upon by most of society. Eve couldn’t say she was proud of those wants, but had come to accept that her desires were unchangeable. She had to accept that.

She took a few steps toward the filly while holding her line. Corona immediately changed direction to avoid Eve’s advance. Eve calmly turned her back to the horse and walked away, she could sense from the line that Corona had stopped, curious. Eve turned back toward the horse and tried advancing again, and again, Corona took off into a trot away from Eve. Eve repeated the process--walking towards the horse and then turning her back to walk away. She noticed the circles Corona was running were getting smaller, she was getting ever closer to Eve. Eventually, after another turn of her back (Eve had lost count at this point), she felt a nose nudge against her shoulder. Eve smiled. 

It was late afternoon by the time Eve had successfully saddled Corona and got her used to two long lines--one on each side of her bridle. She was starting to understand the lines and obey their direction. It was enough for today. Eve took her back to the stables for some rest and a meal. 

After Eve fed the horses, she made herself dinner and took a bath. It was getting to be early evening now, and against her better judgement, Eve decided to head into town. 

When she arrived, she tied her horse near the center posts and walked to the saloon. It was a busy night, as usual. Eve found it difficult to even make out the bar through all of the cigar and pipe smoke, but she eventually made her way through the scattered tables to find a seat at the bartop. Elena waved to Eve and gave Kenny a kiss on the cheek before making her way over to Eve’s side of the bar.

“Hey babe, what brings you out here so late? Aren’t you usually in bed by now?”

“Usually…” said Eve. Elena was her best friend but it was still hard for Eve to look her in the eye when she said, “But tonight I thought I’d stop by and say hello to Madam Martens.”

“Oh.” Elena said. She looked at Eve with the slightest bit of concern. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Eve said. She was sure. After last night and this morning, she was _definitely_ sure.

“Well,” Elena paused, looking down at the bar. “Then you’re going to need a few whiskeys first.” She smiled at Eve then, gave her hand a quick squeeze and reached under the bar for some glasses.

Eve sighed in relief. She was so thankful to have someone she could confide in, someone that didn’t judge her. Someone who really cared about her.

Elena slammed two whiskeys on the bar and gave Eve a wink. “I have to go help out Kenny before he murders me. Feel free to use the side door whenever you’re ready to leave. I don’t think anyone will notice,” she said reassuringly. 

Eve raised her glass, giving Elena a small toast in the air and mouthed “ _thank you_.”

Elena laughed, waving her off and turned to the other end of the bar to help Kenny with the growing crowd of drunks.

Eve sipped her whiskey and collected her thoughts for what she was about to do. It had been a long time. Maybe a year. _God, it’s been so long…._ Eve slammed back the rest of the shots Elena had poured for her and made her way to the back door, slipping outside into the now cold desert air.

Eve looked to her left and her right, no one was around. She was in an alley of sorts for the businesses on this side of the road. Most used it for storage and trash, but those that knew Elena knew it was also the best way to get inside the brothel without everyone in town seeing. Eve took a deep breath, walked down the alley, found the unassuming door, and headed inside.

\------------------------------------

“Eve.” It was said as a statement. A matter of simple fact. Madam Carolyn Martens sat in an armchair in a plush and elegantly styled living room. She held a pipe at the corner of her mouth and was fast at work making notes in some kind of ledger, “It’s been a while.”

“Carolyn. Yes, um, yes it has.” Eve was trying her best not to blush. She was always intimidated by Madam Martens. Everything about her exuded poise and power. She wore her hair short, like a man’s as well as a man’s vest and jacket, smartly tailored. But underneath she wore a corset and below, an elegant ankle length skirt complete with dangerous looking heels. An expensive cane could be seen resting behind her in the corner of the room. Eve tried to remember to breathe as she waited for Carolyn to say something more.

“You seem nervous, Eve.” Carolyn didn’t look up to regard Eve but instead began re-packing her pipe.

Eve absent-mindedly smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt. “Yes, well, you know….I usually am when I’m here.”

“You understand it’s of no concern to me if you _are_ here.” Carolyn lit a match and cupped it over the bowl of her pipe. “My girls get paid for their services, not to tell tales.”

“Yes. And I appreciate that. I really do.”

Carolyn gave the pipe a few good drags to start the embers and met Eve’s eye.  
“You own a ranch, correct?”

“Uh.. yes. Yes, that’s right,” Eve’s voice was getting higher and higher in pitch the longer this conversation went on.

“Horses?”

“Yes.”

“Right.” She looked back down at her ledger book. “It’ll be ten dollars for the room. You can pay me on your way out.”

“Yes, ok.” Eve paused, not entirely sure how to proceed. She was wringing her hands. “So I’ll just….” 

Carolyn rolled her eyes, waving a hand at her impatiently. “You’ve been here enough times, Eve. Go upstairs and find someone who interests you. I’d suggest Nadia. She shares your…. _interest_ in the fairer sex.” 

“Nadia, right. Yes, I remember her.” 

“Good. It’s done, then. Off you go.”

Eve swallowed hard. Her palms were sweaty, her pulse was erratic. She awkwardly thanked Carolyn and headed for the staircase at the end of the living room.

Suddenly, the front door to the brothel slammed open. Eve turned around in surprise, gripping the banister.

It was Villanelle.

Eve gasped. She felt like she was going to die of a heart attack--right here, right on these very stairs in the brothel, her life officially over.  
“What are you doing here?!”

“Eve,” Villanelle greeted her with a grin. She stood on the threshold of the brothel entrance with her hands in her pockets and regarded Eve with delight. Villanelle was dressed impeccably. She wore expensive looking riding boots with tight fitted trousers and a corsetted white blouse complete with a tailored men’s suit jacket. Her hair was down, one side tucked behind her ear. She was strikingly beautiful. Even Carolyn looked impressed.

“Eve, you didn’t mention you invited a guest.” Carolyn stood to greet Villanelle, holding out a hand and said, “Madam Martens at your service. Welcome to my establishment.”

Villanelle smiled and took Carolyn’s hand and kissed it, lifting her eyes to Eve on the staircase. “A pleasure, Ms. Martens.”

“Villanelle, _what_ are you doing here?” Eve hissed.

“I could ask the same of you, Eve. But since you asked first, I guess I’m here to have a little fun before we ambush Wyatt and his crew tomorrow. Who knows if I’ll survive,” Villanelle pretended to look worried and gave Eve a pout. “What about you, Eve? Do you have any plans for the night?” Villanelle was enjoying this immensely.

“I was just leaving,” Eve said acidly. She then stormed down the stairs, past Carolyn and past Villanelle….but she was being yanked back by her wrist. Eve looked down to see that Villanelle was holding her in place, her face turned serious--their bodies a foot apart. Villanelle stared down at her.

“No need to be rude, Eve. I was just answering your question.” She released Eve’s wrist, clucking her tongue as if scolding a child.

“Sso...so, so what,” Eve stammered, practically yelling, “you’re a _lesbian_? Is that it? Is that why you’re here?”

Villanelle’s eyes shimmered, her smile turned deadly.

“You should never tell a lesbian they’re a lesbian, Eve.” Villanelle paused and took a step closer and whispered, “It _excites_ them.”

Eve slapped Villanelle hard across the face. She didn’t even pause to consider her reaction. It just--happened. She immediately regretted it and was mortified to see Villanelle wiping blood away from her lip with the side of her thumb. 

“Well…..now _that_ was exciting.” Villanelle had to admit she was pleasantly surprised by Eve’s little outburst. This was…. this was spectacular. Villanelle felt _alive_. She looked to Eve and saw fear writ across her face, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes.

“I…… I’m sorry. I….. Oh God…” Eve turned around swiftly without another word and ran out the back door.

Carolyn seemed completely unphased by the scene that had just unfolded in her living room. She regarded Villanelle warmly and said, “Well, can I interest you in a drink? We have a girl here, Nadia, who I think would just _love_ to meet you…”

Villanelle took a final glance at the brothel’s back door, hoping that by some miracle Eve would walk back inside. She sucked on her swollen lip and put a hand to her burning cheek. She knew Eve wouldn’t come back. Not after this. She sighed to herself and turned to Carolyn.

“That would be lovely, Madam. Please, lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting SO LONG to get that lesbian line in there. Hope it worked.
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments. And thanks for reading!
> 
> Yeehaw and godbless.


	6. Cowboy Beebop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm new to this "writing" thing and realized, as I struggled through this chapter, that maybe I want to try a present tense narration instead of a past tense. It seemed to make the writing easier, so I think that will continue? I don't know. I hope it's not too jarring a switch. If you have an opinion about whether it works better, or if it doesn't, let me know. I've noticed most fics on here use the present tense, which I'm surprised by. I guess it works better for shorty-story?
> 
> Anyways, here's the next chapter, finally. 🤠🌵

——————————

Villanelle leans against the side of her horse, reminiscing on the previous evening, as she watches her team nervously prepare for their eventual clash with Wyatt and his gang of outlaws. And goddamnit, she’s exhausted. She’d had a late night, and not a very satisfying one at that. She wasn’t lying to Eve when she said she meant to have some fun before going after her bounty the next day. And Nadia was a sweet girl, which was exactly the problem. She was just so nice, so... _boring_. But the worst part, the part that really gnaws at Villanelle is the fact that she couldn’t get Eve’s face out of her mind as she took Nadia to bed. Nadia had been pliant and eager below her in the brothel bedroom but all Villanelle saw, desperately tried to see, were Eve’s hands pulling her hips closer. Eve’s hair cascading over her back as Villanelle tied her up and took her from behind. The illusions weren’t enough. It left Villanelle in a fowl mood. She left the brothel slapping Nadia’s desperate hands away, refusing her touch. And now here she is, in the middle of the desert, tired and thinking of Eve.

The mid afternoon sun is merciless as it bakes down upon the Great Basin desert. Buzzards were beginning to circle the three riders below. Villanelle watches them fly and brings her fingertips to her face, gently brushing the bruised cut at the corner of her mouth. It’s become an unconscious habit of hers now, each touch giving Villanelle a small chill of excitement. She’s begun to covet this bruise, the sweet cut on her lip, not wanting it to ever heal. God, what is happening to her? Is she really this soft? Villanelle is used to wanting things—women, money, expensive clothes—but the want is always just that—want. Eve feels like a _need_. Villanelle isn’t used to _needing_ anyone, or anything, for that matter. It leaves her feeling absurd and confused but overall, frustrated. She curses to herself and pulls her hat down low over her eyes to hide her face from the desert sun, pushing the thoughts from her mind.

——————————

“So we’re really doing this?” Hugo asks as he loads his revolver, spinning the chamber and slamming it shut with a flick of his wrist.

“You want the money, don’t you?” Villanelle says bitingly. She’s now looking down the barrel of her Sharps ‘74 rifle, checking to make sure it’s clear of any debris or grit. Satisfied, she begins loading the weapon. It is best used for long-range shots, and she looks forward to using it during the ambush—much like a sniper. Her plan is to put down as many of Wyatt’s men as she can before they are in close range. The fewer men shooting at them, the better.

“This is suicide, Villanelle.” Konstantine stands by his horse, rolling the chamber of his revolver and listening for any snags. He’s wearing a long leather duster coat and a stetson hat. His face looks tanned and aged from the desert sun but is still handsome, if a little hardened. Most found his size and gruff demeanor intimidating but Villanelle knows how loving he can be, how kind. “We’re going to run straight into a trap and we don’t know how many men he has hiding out there,” Konstantine says doubtfully.

Villanelle snaps her rifle closed and places it in its scabbard, which she then buckles over her shoulder. “We’re going to ambush them, take them by surprise. They won’t even know what hit ‘em.” She looks up at his face, her eyes are clear and honest. “Don’t you believe in me?”

Konstantine smiles then. Villanelle loves his smile.

“Of course I believe in you, Villanelle. You are amazing, you are like family, but I don’t want to see you die.”

“We are outlaws Konstantine. We are very likely to die.”

“I know, I just…. I hope you know what you are doing.”

Hugo looks down during this exchange, feeling like he’s witnessing something intimate he has no right to really hear. He awkwardly fiddles with his bolo tie that hangs between his sheep skin vest, wondering if this is the last time he’ll ever wear it.

Villanelle turns away from Konstantine, ignoring the flicker of emotion she feels after what’s been said. _Like family?_ She can’t think about that right now. And she can’t think about Eve, either. It was fogging her mind, these stupid thoughts—these redicilous...feelings. Right now, she wants to do her job--she wants to do her job _really_ well. Now was not the time to get sentimental. So she mounts her horse in one swift motion and looks down at her crew, “If we’re all ready, we should go. It looks like there’s a storm coming. I want to get this over and done with.”

The sky is indeed growing dark. Bruised thunder clouds are rolling in from the north, eager to quench the parched earth. Lightning strikes appear far off in the distance, silent flashes dancing over the mountain range. The three riders in black sit side by side atop their horses, each silent in thought. Konstantine and Hugo are fidgeting and nervous, untying and retying buckles, adjusting their hats, checking and rechecking their revolvers. Villanelle is stationed in between them. She can sense their unease but ignores it. What she feels now is no more than a low hum of anticipation, like static in the air. 

Thunder rumbles from far off and the wind is picking up, blowing dust across the vista and howling through the canyons. Villanelle stares straight ahead, motionless. The canyon of Robber’s Roost lay before them, ominous, like a dark pit waiting to swallow them whole. 

“Ready?”

Konstantine and Hugo turn to her and nod solemnly.

“Alright then.” A giant smile forms across her face. The fun was about to begin. She laughs in giddy excitement and yells: 

“ **Yipee-ki-yay motherfuckers!!!** ”

And they’re off, their horses mowing down the earth in a stampede of flying dust—making a straight shot toward the mouth of the canyon. The landscape becomes a blur in the riders’ peripheries. The only sound that can be heard is the thunder of hoofbeats as they tear their way across the desert plains now cast in shadow from the rolling storm clouds. Every second that passes leads them closer and closer to the hideout, closer and closer to violence.

They are 500 feet away now, close enough to see the encampment of the hideout but not make out any people. If anyone in Wyatt’s gang were paying attention, they would see three black dots racing toward them like a bat out of hell. 

Sensing it was time, Villanelle releases the reigns of her horse and reaches back for her rifle, cocks it and presses the butt of the handle against her shoulder, closes one eye and looks down the barrel for her first victim. 

They are close, maybe 300 feet away, their horses still fresh and moving at an ungodly pace. The riders can see men moving about the encampment near the entrance of the canyon. Villanelle takes in a slow breath, aims, and lets off her first shot.

A man crumples to the ground.

Another shot rings out in quick succession. 

Another man goes down, shot through his beer mug.

200 feet away now. Hugo and Konstantine break out ahead of Villanelle, their guns drawn. Hugo lets out a jeering “Yeeee-hawww!” and fires a warning shot into the air. Wyatt’s men are scrambling now, some running to hide while others try to load their guns in desperation. Villanelle picks off a man on the balcony of a two story shack, causing his dead body to crash down into a horse trough below. She shoots a man in the back as he tries to mount his horse in a desperate escape. _Coward_. Another man stands alone in the surrounding chaos, shaking like a leaf, dropping every one of his bullets as he tries to load the barrel of his revolver. He’s a sitting duck. Villanelle smiles before pulling the trigger. 

She shoots him through the throat.

Hugo and Konstantine reach the hideout first, guns blazing. They leap off their horses and immediately seek out shelter from the returning gun fire, every so often peeking around a boulder or a barrel to pick off another gang member of Wyatt’s crew.

A minute later, Villanelle reaches the entrance, drops her rifle to its saddle holster and jumps to the ground. She takes her time walking into the encampment, oblivious to the hail storm of bullets firing around her. Konstantine and Hugo are doing a decent job of slowly picking off the members of the gang, giving her cover. Men lie wounded on the ground, close to death and moaning in agony. Villanelle steps over their bodies without so much as a glance—her eyes only searching for the face of her bounty, Zipp Wyatt.

Not finding him among the dead and wounded, Villanelle reaches the porch of the pathetic looking two story shack and kicks down the door, her revolver now in hand. The place looks empty, until suddenly a man rushes out of the hallway screaming, coming at her with a knife. Villanelle slams down the hammer of her revolver and takes him out quickly. She continues her sweep of the house. When she reaches the kitchen she catches sight of a man running out the back door. He looks like Wyatt. She follows him out at a leisurely pace, adrenaline pumping. This is her favorite part.

Outside, the gunfire has quieted to a few shots every minute or so. From the looks of it, Konstantine and Hugo have taken out most of the bandits. One or two are hiding, occasionally showing their face from behind a rock to fire off a round before ducking for cover again.

Villanelle stands among the bodies of Wyatt’s men and sees her target limping away toward his horse. _He must have been injured, maybe from back when he robbed the bank. He’s making this too easy, no fun at all,_ she thinks. Villanelle sighs and closes in on her prey, reaching Wyatt quickly from behind and slamming him to his knees, pressing her revolver tight against his back.

“You know you got a face beautiful enough to be worth 15,000 dollars, Wyatt?” Villanelle grabs him by the hair and turns his head so he can see her over his shoulder. 

“It’s up to that much now?” He lets out a nervous laugh, straining against the grip on his head. “Last I heard, it was ten. Guess I’m getting more and more beautiful by the day.” Pings of ricocheted bullets sound off the canyon walls around them. Hugo and Konstantine must still be struggling with the few surviving men. Wyatt coughs and spits on the ground giving Villanelle a forced smile. “You know, I’ve also heard tell that warrant says wanted dead or _alive_ ”. He looks up at her inquisitively, running his tongue over his dry, cracked lips—trying to hide his fear. 

Villanelle gives Wyatt a long, hard look. _He is amusing, in a way,_ she thinks to herself. But Wyatt sees no playfulness in her smile. What he sees are her deadly black pupils and feral, predatory grin. It’s obscene, that smile. It almost looks as if nothing lie behind those eyes, nothing more than the ghost of a person. It sends a chill down Wyatt’s spine as Villanelle replies,

“It _does_ say that, Wyatt” she pauses for a moment, “but you know how this business works. We’re all outlaws here,” she gestures toward the mostly dead men on the ground around them, “and we _all_ know that ‘dead or alive’ is just a nice polite way of ask’n me, your bounty hunter, to bring your ass in stone cold dead. So I’m going to shoot you in the back, since I can’t destroy that pretty face of yours. And then you’re going to die, ok? You ready?” 

Villanelle cocks the hammer. Wyatt closes his eyes and makes the sign of the cross against his chest. Villanelle begins to laugh but is cut off by the sound of a shot and then a yell. And suddenly, there is no gun pressed to his back. He immediately stands up and turns to find Villanelle’s face in the dirt, a hand clutching her side. Blood is dripping from her hand. She’d been shot.

Wyatt doesn’t hesitate. He kicks the revolver far away from her grasp and decides to give her a solid kick to the face for good measure. _Fucking psycho_. The kick sends her head whipping back with a spray of blood and she lands on her side, moaning. He laughs and turns her flat onto her back with the toe of his boot, kneeling down to have a good look at her. 

To his surprise, she’s still smiling—her teeth pink now from her bloody mouth and she’s.... she’s laughing at him? “You’re a crazy son of a bitch, Villanelle, you know that?.” He laughs along with her, bewildered by her insanity. “Now I’ll tell you what _I’m_ going to do. I’m going to leave you here to bleed out. And then, I’m going to take your horse and your supplies and be on my merry way. Ok?” He takes her gun too, shining it up with the sleeve of his shirt—appreciating it, and begins to walk toward the canyon entrance where the horses stand. 

Villanelle groans through the pain, her hand still clutching her side, and manages to sit up, resting her weight on her knees. She’s panting heavily, trying not to pass out from the pain. She looks behind her to find Konstantin in a fist fight with one of Wyatt’s men—probably the man who’d shot her. She spits blood from her mouth and turns back to watch as Wyatt saunters away toward her horse. _Oh no, not today motherfucker_. Using the last of her strength, she stands on shaky legs and reaches for the bowie knife strapped to her thigh. She flips it in her hand so that she’s gripping the blade instead of the handle, and flings it expertly at Wyatt’s back. 

Time seems to slow as she watches the dagger slice through the air, handle over blade. She collapses to her knees from the effort of the throw and feels a spark of _something_ as she witnesses the blade sink deep into the middle of Wyatt’s back with a satisfying thunk. He falls to the ground, crying in agony, desperately trying to reach behind him for the knife but failing.

“Villanelle!” Konstantine gives the man he’s fighting one last punch to the face, knocking him cold and runs to her. Meanwhile, Hugo is still in a shoot-out with the last of Wyatt’s men. He finally nails him, square between the eyes after the man had reached to shoot but was out of bullets. “Looks like yer empty,” Hugo said before delivering the kill shot. Both men reach her at the same time, breathing heavily with panic writ across their faces. Konstantine reaches to hold Villanelle upright while Hugo tears off his vest and presses it to Villanelle’s wound. “What the fuck do we do now?” he asks Konstantin, voice cracking.

“Don’t worry about me,” Villanelle hisses through gritted teeth. “Just make sure Wyatt’s dead.”

Hugo places Villanelle’s hand firmly on the bloody vest and runs to go inspect Wyatt’s body. He finds Wyatt stubbornly clinging to life, making a slow, pathetic crawl toward the horses. Cursing, Hugo pulls the knife out of Wyatt’s back with a grunt, lifts his head by his hair and slits Wyatt’s throat. 

Konstantine looks down on Villanelle with worry, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.  
“Do you think you can still ride?”

Villanelle is about to answer him when she sees something sparkle in her periphery and hears a crackling hiss. Panic grips her then. She looks to the ground and sees her fears manifested. It’s a fuse, and it’s burning a line straight down to the canyon wall. Villanelle feels a heavy weight drop to the pit of her stomach as the realization hits her. She looks up at Konstantine, gripping him by his coat, her voice shaky, “They’ve got this place wired with dynamite. We—we need to get the fuck out of here, NOW!”

Konstantine sees the burning fuse and immediately lifts Villanelle to her feet, throws her over his shoulder and runs toward their horses. 

“Hugo! Throw Wyatt over the back of your horse and get the fuck out of here. The canyon is going to blow!” Konstantine screams.

“Oh fuck me!” Hugo yells as he struggles to pull Wyatt’s dead body toward his horse.

Konstantine lifts Villanelle onto Saxano and gives the horse a hard slap on his rear to get him running. He then helps Hugo drape Wyatt’s body over the back of his horse and then climbs onto his own. “Go. Now!”

Hugo spurs his horse into a gallop and Konstantine follows close behind. 

They are only a few hundred feet from the mouth of the canyon when they hear the explosion and tumultuous crack of breaking rock. A wave of heat and wind and dust hits their backs as they will their horses into a full-out sprint. It’s only minutes later when they hear another explosion, but this time from the sky. A torrential rain immediately follows, pummeling the riders as they make their escape, leaving them soaked to the bone in seconds.

They need to stop. The downpour of rain is impossible to see through, there’s little point in moving forward until it lets up or they can find shelter. Villanelle is hunched over her horse, her hand still holding Hugo’s vest to her side. She reels in pain and is breathing heavily. 

Konstantine yells out to her over the thunder and sheets of falling rain, “We need to get you to a doctor, we need to stop the bleeding!”

Villanelle grimaces, the flashes of lightning illuminating her face for a second as she yells back, “I’ll take care of it but you need to get that body in to Green River City before it starts to turn.” Rain is falling from her hat in sheets and she throws it off, no point in wearing it now. “Show the sheriff the warrant. I’ll send a letter to you there.”

“Someone should stay with you,” Konstantine yells back. “I’m not leaving you here to die.”

Villanelle practically growls and says, “Get the body to Green River, Konstantine. There will be poachers.” She pauses to catch her breath, it hurts so much to breathe. “You’ll need Hugo’s help to protect the bounty. I’ll be fine. I’ll get help in Franksville. Now go.”

Konstantine stares at her, unmoving. She can’t see his tears for the rain.

“What did I just say?!” she screams, her voice manic. “Get the fuck out of here!”

Konstantine feels absolutely sick, he holds the reins of his horse with shaking hands. Villanelle is like a daughter to him—a crazy, rebellious, childish daughter, but still. He knows he would never forgive himself if she died, but there was no use arguing with her. She’d shoot him before accepting his help. 

He gives her one last look and softly says, “Goodbye, Villanelle”.

——————————

She rides for miles, letting Saxano guide her to wherever it is they’re going. The rain is still falling hard and she begins to shiver violently. The pain is insufferable, but she clenches her jaw through it, refusing to pass out. She’s lost a lot of blood. She needs to find shelter soon or she’s done for.

Her head is starting to nod halfway between consciousness until suddenly, Saxano stops with a huff. Villanelle lifts her head to look out in front of her--they’re standing against a fence post. The rain has let up enough for her to make out a gate and then it hits her, she’s standing outside Eve’s ranch.

Her side burns like a bitch as she practically falls from the saddle. She opens the gate with a shaking hand and leads Saxano by the reins to Eve’s barn, gripping her wounded side. 

“Stay here,” she says to him sweetly. “You’ve done good, Saxano.”

She leaves the barn, making her way slowly to Eve’s ranch house, trying to keep her balance. She trips up the set of stairs leading to the porch and catches herself against the doorframe. There’s light shining through the windows, the wood frame is warm against her wet skin.

She’s trying to catch her breath. Trying to remain upright. Villanelle takes a long shaking breath and with a dripping hand, knocks.....and waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Villaneve will be happening next chapter, promise. Hope this was a fun one, at least. Needed to get this plot line out of the way. Again, let me know what you think about the change in tense, if you feel any certain way about it.
> 
> Comments are always nice. And thank you, as always, for reading.
> 
> Yee-haw and yeet like no one's watching.


	7. Shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been tinkering with this chapter for what feels like forever. I need to let it go, so here it is.
> 
> Oh, and a "billy" is a large metal coffee pot thing from the 1800's.

——————————

It’s nine at night and Eve is still awake. The thunderstorm has kept her up reading by the lamplight—or she should say, trying to read. She jumps every time she hears the crack of lightning and loses her place in her book, cursing her nerves. It was rare for it to storm out in the desert, but when it did, the sky would open up to drop its weight upon the earth, leaving everyone and everything at its mercy. It never failed to put Eve on edge. The howling wind and cracks of thunder were so intrusive compared to the still quiet of the desert nights. She looks up from her book to appreciate the comfort of her small home while the storm rages outside—its aged slats of gamble oak and plank frame ceiling. The brick fireplace facing her bed, always keeping her warm at night. The walls decorated with mounted antlers and a bison head, and even a painting of her mother’s. She feels safe in this simple, familiar prairie box-home. She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

An hour passes and the worst of the storm has ended, now just a steady hammering of rain. Eve wraps herself tightly in her blanket and goes to sit by the fireplace, adding a few logs. She doesn’t feel tired at all, she’s a bundle of anxious energy. She doesn’t expect to fall asleep anytime soon, her mind just refuses to _stop_. The entire day was spent thinking about things that Eve would rather not think about. Now, wrapped in her wool blanket, she still ponders these things. Not things, but people. No, not people. Person. Ever since last night in the brothel, that embarrassing—horrifying night, Eve can’t stop thinking about Villanelle. What she’s doing. Who she’s doing it with. Where she is. If she’s safe ...It's begun to drive her mad. At least, that’s how it feels now. Like an obsession. And she can’t shake it, not tonight.

She is just about to open her book again in the hopes of actually reading, when there’s a heavy knock on her door. Eve jumps out of her seat. “Fuck!” She drops the book and stares at the door in a panic. _Who in the hell could that be?_ Fear begins to creep down her spine. No one ever calls on her this late in the evening. What if it’s one of Wyatt’s outlaws? _Shit, where’s my fucking rifle? Is it under the bed? No… is it in the barn? Fucking hell_.

Another heavy knock sounds. _Fuck, ok, I’m just going to see who it is. Maybe it’s someone from town. Maybe Bill has had a set-back, maybe Elena is sick. Or… I don’t know, but just in case..._. Eve throws her blanket to the ground and grabs a log from the wood pile. It feels heavy and rough in her hand. She quietly walks to her door, heart pounding in her chest. She takes a deep breath, raises the log in preparation to strike, and opens the door a crack to peer outside.

Her eye immediately lands on Villanelle’s face. She’s leaning heavily against the doorframe. A flash of lightning shoots across the sky, illuminating her silhouette for a moment. Her eyes are pinched closed and her face looks pained, not to mention bruised. She’s soaking wet and holds a hand tight to her side.

“Oh my God,” Eve clasps a hand to her mouth in shock. “Villanelle?”

Villanelle opens her eyes then and gives Eve a small smile.

“Howdy, Eve. Uh.. can I come in? It’s...it’s raining,” she says, teeth chattering.

“Jesus….” Eve grabs Villanelle by her arm and pulls her inside. She realizes she’s still gripping the log and looks down at it in a brief moment of confusion.

“Where you going to hit me with that?” Villanelle says, gesturing toward Eve’s hand.

“I uh... no, I mean, no. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Good, because I already have quite the headache. And I—” And suddenly, Villanelle is falling to her knees.

Eve immediately drops the log and catches Villanelle in her arms to keep her from falling to the floor.

“Jesus Villanelle, what happened? Are you ok?”

The two women find themselves in an awkward embrace. Villanelle’s head rests on Eve’s shoulder, her hands flat against Eve’s chest while Eve’s arms wrap around Villanelle’s waist in a clumsy attempt to keep her upright. 

“I think I need to lie down,” Villanelle says weakly.

“Ok, sure. Here, God, you’re _freezing_ ,” Eve says as she guides Villanelle to the foot of the fireplace. 

The floor is carpeted by a speckled calfskin rug and she helps lower Villanelle to the ground, lying her on her back close to the fire. Eve goes to reach for a pillow and catches sight of her hand. It’s covered in blood.

“Shit, you’re bleeding!”

“Mmm..” Villanelle’s eyes are closed again. She’s starting to nod off.

“Villanelle! Hey! Wake up, you’re bleeding. You’re...” Eve feels a panic settling over her. Something is very wrong. She rushes to kneel next to Villanelle and looks down at her face. “Where are you hurt? Show me.” Her throat feels tight and her heart is beating so loud she’s surprised it hasn’t burst.

“Got shot…” Villanelle mumbles, eyes still closed, her mouth set in a grimace. 

“Hey, stay with me.” Eve says sternly while giving Villanelle a few light smacks on her cheek.

Villanelle’s eyes shoot open, looking confused. “Did you just slap me again?”

“God, you are _not_ helping….” Eve looks down to search Villanelle’s body. She’s wearing all black, her clothes are soaked and plastered tight against her skin. It’s hard to tell where the blood is coming from. But Eve can see Villanelle’s right hand gripping the left side of her waist. Eve reaches down to lift Villanelle’s hand away from her wet shirt. The clothing there is torn and she can see dark blood oozing from what looks like a gunshot wound. She glances back up to Villanelle’s face and finds her nodding out again, eyes closed tight against the pain.

“Ok, shit, ok.” Eve stands and starts to pace in front of the fire. “Towels! We need towels. And… and alcohol. We need to stop the bleeding.” 

Villanelle moans in response.

“Ok, don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Eve’s voice sounds frantic—her mind failing to process what’s going on, but she knows that the bleeding needs to stop if Villanelle is going to survive. She pauses to look down at Villanelle again, and she looks horrible. Like a drenched cat. And her face… there’s deep purple bruises forming along her jaw. _Dear god, what happened to you?_ she thinks. She’s lost in thought for a moment before the panic hits her brain again and she’s driven back into action. “Please… please don’t die,” she whispers and rushes to the back of the house. 

Minutes pass and Villanelle comes to, opening her eyes. She’s looking at a peaked ceiling made of oak, cast in shadow by the glow of the fire. Her side burns, the pain is surreal. She turns her head to face the fire and looks above the mantle. A stags head is mounted above. Half melted candles and dried flowers in vases litter the mantelpiece. She turns down to the floor and sees a beautiful calfskin rug. The short hairs feel smooth against her cheek. She wants to sink down into it, to melt into its soft hide. She hears footsteps and sees Eve’s bare feet standing next to her. And now Eve’s face, she’s crouched on her knees, looking down at her. She feels Eve’s hand on her cheek as she moves strands of damp hair away from her face and behind her ear.

“I need to have a look at your wound,” Eve says calmly.

Villanelle looks down to where her hand is gripping her waist and moves it to rest at her side.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Villanelle asks, slightly worried.

Eve ignores her question and instead responds by tearing the fabric of Villanelle’s shirt in one swift motion, all the way to her sternum, slightly revealing the rise of Villanelle’s breasts. Eve’s eyes are immediately drawn there but she looks away quickly. _Of course Villanelle doesn’t wear a bra...christ…_. Eve tries to focus and brings a lamp close to Villanelle’s waist to have a better look. She wets a rag generously with a clear liquid from an unlabeled bottle. 

“I’m sorry, this is going to sting a bit,” she says before pressing the rag against Villanelle’s side.

The pain hits Villanelle like a freight train and she jerks her body away with a sharp intake of breath. 

“Fuck, Eve! Alcohol? Fucking _alcohol_?!”

“Well I don’t know, do I?!” Eve yells back.

“God damn it, fucking hurts….Give a little warning next time.” She cringes against the pain and starts to breathe rapidly.

“Damnit. Shh, hey, it’s ok.” Eve cups her hand to Villanelle’s cheek and then moves to stroke her thumb at her temple, combing her wet hair with her fingers. “I’m sorry, but we need to clean this and then I can sew you up. It looks like it’s a flesh wound, no bullet stuck inside. It made a tear in your muscle but if I can stop the bleeding, I think you’ll be ok.”

Eve takes her hand away from Villanelle’s hair, and suddenly she feels a hand gripping her wrist. Villanelle’s grip is so tight, her movement so swift, it startles Eve—she looks down at Villanelle with a mixture of fear and concern.

“I didn’t want to.” Villanelle says through clenched teeth. Sweat is beading at the edge of her brow and her face looks dangerously pale.

“Wha..what didn’t you want?” Eve swallows hard, her eyes darting from Villanelle’s face to her bleeding side and back again.

“Didn’t want to see you again….” Villanelle gasps through the pain.

Eve feels a heavy stone drop to the pit of her stomach. 

“...like this. Didn’t want you to see me,” she gasps, “like this.” Villanelle closes her eyes again, trying to breathe through the pain. She releases her grip on Eve’s wrist, her hand dropping to the floor like dead weight.

Eve is dumbstruck. She doesn’t know what to think except that Villanelle must be delirious from the pain, talking nonsense. Why would Villanelle even think of seeing Eve again? If she hadn't been shot, Villanelle would be halfway to wherever to collect her bounty.

Eve takes a cloth to dab Villanelle’s forehead and lays the back of her hand there to feel for a fever. She’s warm but not burning up. Eve tries to focus on the task at hand rather than ruminate on what Villanelle has just told her, because it doesn’t make any sense. She needs to stop the bleeding, first and foremost. 

Villanelle’s eyes are open again, searching over Eve’s face with a pleading sincerity. As if asking for forgiveness. 

“Eve, I….”

But she’s cut off by Eve’s fingers on her lips, shushing her sweetly. “You don’t need to talk now. I need to stitch you up, and I’m going to give you something to make this easier. I’ll need to have you sit up, though, ok?”

Villanelle gives the smallest of nods as Eve helps to raise her up, and hands her a glass of brown liquid. “It’s something for the pain. I should have given it to you first...I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It’s whiskey mixed with laudanum.”

“Oh…” is all Villanelle can manage to say. She takes the glass, looks at Eve, and then downs the cocktail in one gulp, licking her lips. “Thank you,” she says softly. She moves to lie back down, sighing loudly. “Laudanum…. that’s…. _nice_.”

Eve smiles to herself. Laudanum is essentially liquified opium, which is just a cheaper version of morphine. Eve forgot she still had some from a year ago when she was thrown from a bucking horse. It was a magic drug, as far as Eve was concerned. It virtually eliminated pain but only for a time. It should make stitching up Villanelle a lot easier, a lot less painful, she hopes.

“Ok, I’m going to clean this, _with alcohol_.” Eve pauses for an outburst. It doesn’t come. “And _then_ I’m going to sew it up with catgut string. I use it on my horses if they get caught in the barbed wire…”

Villanelle sighs heavily, eyes closed, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth. She hasn’t heard a thing Eve’s said. The opiate is hitting her quickly. It feels like a warm blanket draped down the length of her body. It feels almost as good as when Eve had held her cheek...

“Ok Eve.”

“Ok.”

Eve sets to work. She cleans Villanelle’s wound, this time with less resistance, and threads the needle, lowering it to her side. It pains Eve to watch as she sinks the needle into the torn flesh, but Villanelle is seemingly in another world. She makes a small moan at the puncture but doesn’t open her eyes. Eve continues, trying to steady her hands, and stitches as evenly and as tightly as she can. She cleans the wound again and cuts strips of clean cloth to make a bandage. 

Having finished, Eve lets out a sigh and takes a moment to sit and simply be still. The anxiety from earlier still courses through her body but she’s no longer worried Villanelle will bleed out on her living room floor. She watches Villanelle doze. Follows the bruised line of her jaw down to her clavicle and her precariously covered breasts. Watches her exposed stomach rise and fall with her breathing. Follows the curve of her hip. And without thinking, Eve reaches out to place a shaking hand just above Villanelle’s navel, maybe to assure herself she’s really still there, alive and warm. She feels the ripple of muscle beneath soft skin and thinks, _God, she’s beautiful..._ She wants to trace every inch of Villanelle with her hands, wants to lay her head on her chest and listen to her heart beating. _I’m going mad...good God what is happening to me?_ She removes her hand delicately from Villanelle’s stomach and leans toward her face.

“Villanelle? We should get you into some dry clothes.”

Villanelle’s eyelids flicker at the sound of Eve’s voice. She sighs contentedly and slowly opens them, smiling up at Eve.

“Ok, can you help me up?”

Eve helps raise Villanelle into a sitting position and kneels on the floor next to her. “I’m going to get you something to wear,” she whispers into her ear. But before she can turn away, Villanelle reaches up and tears the remainder of her shirt up to the collar, peels off the sleeves, and throws the cloth to the ground. She’s completely topless, her now naked back facing Eve. Eve immediately looks away, cheeks burning, and says “There’s a blanket behind you… I’ll get you some clothes and a wet cloth for your hands, they’re—they’re covered in blood. Be…uh, be right back”.

Eve returns a short while later carrying a cotton shirt and pants and a wet rag. She’s relieved to find Villanelle has wrapped herself in the blanket. 

“You can change into these.” Eve places the clothes down next to her. “I’ll be in the kitchen, I’m going to make some tea. Do you want anything?”

Villanelle looks over her shoulder at Eve, eyes glazed from the drug and mumbles, “tea would be nice”.

“Ok, good.” She smiles at Villanelle, trying to think of something else to say, but nothing comes to her. She simply stares at the young blonde, her face lit in the soft glow from the fire. Villanelle stares back over her shoulder, wrapped in her blanket, an adorable grin on her face. It’s probably just the drugs, but her smile makes Eve feel warm all the same. 

“Eve?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to leave tonight?” Her voice is clear despite the laudanum, her eyes wide and doe-like.

Eve pauses at the question. She feels like time has slowed, cocooning her in this moment. The fire dances shadows across Villanelle’s face, drawing attention to her every feature. Her cat eyes, her sharp jaw, the expanse of her slender neck, her bare shoulders. Eve can’t look away, she doesn’t want to. She wants…. she wants her to….

“No, I want you to stay,” she says, her voice low and quiet. She looks away when she says it, down at the floor. When she doesn’t hear a response she hesitantly looks back up at Villanelle. She’s still smiling at her, biting her lower lip, taking Eve in. 

Eve stammers, “I mean, you _shouldn’t_ go. You shouldn’t ride with an injury like that, it could tear open again. You could—”

“You’re right, Eve.” Villanelle cuts her off, her lips are parted, her gaze doesn’t waver. “And thank you for letting me stay. And for...helping me.” She turns away then and drops the blanket from her shoulders, reaching to put on the shirt and pants Eve’s left her. 

She steals a glance at Villanelle’s bare back and feels a hot burn in her stomach. _You need to stop this before you do something stupid,_ she tells herself. Eve turns away toward the kitchen and goes to fill the billy with loose leaf tea. She fills it with water and lights the wood stove and waits for it to boil. She looks down at her hands to find them, once again, sticky with drying blood. _Why does this keep happening to me?_. She goes to wash her hands at the sink, scrubbing hard, trying to wash away her panic.

She needs to calm down. Her heart hasn’t stopped racing since she opened her front door. She needs to regain some semblance of control. Seeing Villanelle so vulnerable and exposed—it makes Eve feel like she’s losing her mind. The rational part of her brain knows that Villanelle is dangerous, reckless ...ruthless. But that’s not the person she saw tonight. That’s not the woman lying on her living room floor. Hell, maybe it’s the laudanum. But Eve hopes it’s not just the drugs, or the blood loss, or desperation. Because, if she’s being honest, she likes this sweeter side of Villanelle. And didn’t she see that a few days ago when she’d made Eve dinner? Granted, it was against her will, but maybe Villanelle was trying (in her own way) to show Eve she’s not the monster everyone makes her out to be. _Or_ , Eve thinks, _I could just be losing my fucking mind_.

Eve sighs to herself and watches the billy start to steam on the stove top. She hears the scrape of a chair leg against the floor and turns to see Villanelle sitting, slightly hunched, at the small kitchen table. She’s wearing the pants and shirt Eve gave her—it drapes over her body nicely. Eve can see the outlines of Villanelle’s teardrop breasts and her nipples poking through—she tries not to focus on that and looks up and into her eyes.

Villanelle is smiling serenely, not saying a word, simply watching Eve.

Eve decides to break the silence. “So... are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I really like this drug you gave me. I can’t feel anything. What was it called again?”

 _Jesus, she’s high as a kite…_  
“Laudanum,” Eve says impatiently. “Who shot you?”

Villanelle shrugs nonchalantly and says, “One of Wyatt’s men”. Villanelle rests her elbows lazily on the table, hands under her chin. “They’re all dead now. I sent my team off to Green River to collect the bounty.” She then looks down to lift her shirt and examine the bandage Eve’s wrapped around her waist, lightly pressing the wound in curiosity.

“Don’t touch that”.

Villanelle freezes, looks at Eve with an apologetic grin and lowers her shirt. Her pupils are blown wide and dark.

“So, they left you bleeding like that?” Eve can’t quite keep the anger out of her voice.

“Yes, I told them to, silly. Don’t be upset.”

The sound of boiling water interrupts them, and Eve grabs a cloth to take the billy off the stove to pour them both tea. She goes to sit at the table with Villanelle, blowing steam across her mug and placing one in front of the bounty hunter.

“Well, that’s idiotic,” Eve says flatly. 

Villanelle looks taken aback by Eve’s response. But then laughs and says “It worked out, didn’t it? You were here, you saved me.” Villanelle smiles wide, like she couldn’t be happier, and reaches across the table to grab Eve’s hand—her thumb drawing small circles at the inside of her wrist. “Thank you, Eve”.

Eve stares at their joined hands, not daring to breathe. She looks up at Villanelle and sees she’s biting her lower lip again. _Fuck, that’s adorable._ With her other hand, Eve lifts the mug to her lips to sip at the hot tea. The liquid tastes cold in comparison to Villanelle’s touch, she feels like she might combust from the shock of it, the pure electricity she feels reverberating throughout her body. No one has ever had this kind of effect on her before. Not the prostitutes, not the girls from her youth or the fumbling boys... Eve shudders at the thought. She realizes now that deep down, she’s terrified of what she wants and how much she wants it, terrified of how strongly her body reacts to just the sight of Villanelle, the touch of Villanelle. Terrified of how much her heart ached to see the woman hurt and bleeding, mortified by the scene in the brothel last night, her brazen flirtations with Eve. Villanelle is here in front of her, in her house, and it all feels so big, so completely insurmountable—the pressure of it, the sheer weight of it. Eve feels wide awake and it makes her want to scream, want to break apart her life and stand in the rubble, sift through the pieces and hold them up to the light in an attempt to understand. 

“I’m falling apart,” Eve whispers, not realizing she’s spoken aloud.

“...what?” Villanelle raises an eyebrow in confusion.

She feels Villanelle’s hold on her tighten, anchoring her, but it can’t tamp down the racing of her heart. 

“It feels insane…” Eve says quietly, looking at their hands and then back at Villanelle.

“What’s insane, Eve?” 

“You being here, you needing my help—showing up on my doorstep bleeding...you holding my hand right now....” Eve doesn’t know where she’s found the courage to say these things but they’re flowing from her uninhibited. Villanelle is still stroking Eve’s wrist with her thumb, eyes shimmering and locked on Eve with complete focus.

“Well, Saxano brought me here, I guess he remembered the way, even through the storm.” Villanelle pauses in consideration, “and I knew I might die soon. I didn’t know if you’d help me, but I needed to see you again.” She looks down at their joined hands and back up at Eve. “Do you not want me to touch you?”

“No I...it’s ok. It’s fine.” Eve looks down at the table, she can feel the flush of red reach her cheeks, but she’s past caring right now. She sighs and looks up at Villanelle, trying to keep the fear out of her voice when she says, “I think about you all the time.”

Silence hangs in the air.

Villanelle looks surprised at first and then beams at Eve, her smile widening. “I think about you too”. She pauses, biting her lower lip again. “I...I think about you _a lot_. I thought about you last night when I was with Nadia...”

“Oh! Ok… uh…”

“Too much?”

“No it’s just...I didn’t know we were being that honest. But ok.” She gives Villanelle a small smile, slightly laughing. “I’m sorry I slapped you…last night. I got a little overwhelmed...”

“It’s ok. I rather liked it,” Villanelle says with a smirk. “But you did leave a rather large bruise,” she says, pointing to her jaw.

“Ok, I did _not_ do that,” Eve laughs. “Who did though? It looks so painful.”

“Wyatt kicked me in the face right after I was shot, the dead bastard. Incredibly rude.” Villanelle winces then, grabbing at her side.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, it’s just… I think I need to lie down. Sitting up right now doesn’t seem to be working out so well.”

Villanelle lets go of Eve’s hand and heads back toward the fireplace, grabbing a pillow off the settee.

Eve sighs and looks across the room, “You don’t need to sleep on the floor, Villanelle”.

She turns back to look at Eve, eyebrow raised. “Oh? Then where am I sleeping?”

“The bed.”

Villanelle’s heart starts to flutter. “Ok….where are _you_ sleeping?” Villanelle says, a cocky grin on her face.

“In the bed. Do you have a problem with that?” Eve has no idea where this confidence is coming from but she’s going with it. She gets up out of her chair and walks the short distance to the bed, pulling down the covers. “There’s plenty of room”.

Villanelle stares at Eve, trying to hide her shock and replies, “No, I don’t have a problem with that at all.”

“Well, there we are then,” Eve says with finality. 

Villanelle walks over and crawls into bed, laying on her good side, hands resting under her cheek and watches as Eve circles the house, turning down the gas lamps as she goes. She throws another log into the fireplace and methodically folds the blanket left strewn on the floor, before making her way back to the bedside.

The small house dances with the light from the fire as Eve sits on the opposite side of the bed, looking down on Villanelle. She’s achingly beautiful, soft features illuminated by the flickering flames. 

“Do you need anything more for the pain?” Eve whispers, pulling back the covers.

“No, just really tired”. She’s looking up at Eve patiently, lips parted and pats the space next to her.

Eve gets in, slowly, as if she hasn’t done this hundreds of times before. It’s just, there’s never been anyone on the other side. And now that there is, Eve doesn’t know how she’s ever going to fall asleep. She lies on her side facing Villanelle, not knowing what to say. They’re just looking at each other. Minutes pass by. And then, Villanelle reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind Eve’s ear. _Oh god.._ She wraps Eve’s curls around her finger for a moment before reaching down to graze the bottom of Eve’s earlobe. She traces the line of Eve’s jaw with a feather light touch of her finger before pulling her hand back to rest under her own pillow. Her eyes start to flutter as she holds back a yawn and says, “Goodnight Eve, thank you for saving me. I owe you one.”

Eve is fairly certain she’s stopped breathing, fairly certain she’s died or maybe this is all a dream because Villanelle has been touching her all night and Eve knows she’s never going to sleep ever again. She finally finds the breath to respond, “you don’t owe me anything. Just get some rest, ok? We’ll check on it in the morning.”

“K.” Villanelle pulls the covers up close to her face and smiles at Eve, her eyes dark and sparkling. “Night”.

“Goodnight, Villanelle”. 

Eve closes her eyes and tries to calm her heart, praying for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me? I swear we're getting somewhere.... don't know exactly where but I think next chapter will be nsfw. Can't wait to see how _that_ goes. Lord have mercy.
> 
> Comments are always nice. Y'all are great.
> 
> Yeehaw and prosper.


	8. Yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back. Sorry I take forever to write these. This is likely NSFW but you could probably get away with it ;)

The sun wakes her first, and then comes the pain. 

A bright beam shines through the kitchen window, warming Villanelle’s face as she slowly opens her eyes to find a room lit in the warm colors of oak and pine. The haze of sleep quickly dissipates as it’s replaced by a visceral throbbing at her side and a foggy confusion. _Where am I?_ , she wonders and feels the rise of panic in her chest. She’s awake, lying on her back and quickly turns her head to the right to find Eve, or rather, Eve’s mess of curls. Memory floods Villanelle in a tangled web of pain and warmth—the storm, the blood. Eve’s eyes, Eve’s hand…

She tries to sit upright but the pain hits her like a knife to her abdomen and she crashes back into the mattress gasping.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Eve is propped up on an elbow, her hair unruly from sleep. Her voice sounds dry when she speaks and she coughs to clear it. 

Villanelle is staring at her, eyes wide. She’s never felt shame before but imagines this must be something close to that.

“Your side….are you in a lot of pain?” Eve asks gently. She sits up fully in bed now, looking down at Villanelle. The memory of last night remains fresh in her mind but she hopes that can’t be said for blonde bounty hunter. She’d had a high dose of laudanum. Last night probably seemed hazy to her at best. Eve can only hope.

Villanelle turns her head away from Eve, mortified, and wishes her body could sink into the bed, wishes she could shrink down to the size of the dust motes now floating in the beams of sunlight and disappear forever. Her body has never felt more sore and the pain from her wound has her heart racing. She can feel the sweat beading on her forehead and the heavy look of concern from Eve. She can’t remember getting into bed and can’t remember why she ever would. _Why didn’t I leave last night?_ But now she remembers all of the blood and falling to the floor and the drink Eve gave her. Remembers the euphoria, remembers not caring about anything after that but Eve, Eve, Eve. And now she’s trapped under that same woman’s heavy gaze, at her mercy. Villanelle locks eyes with the ceiling and says nothing.

Eve frowns and throws the blankets off her body, rising out of bed and walks to the kitchen to grab more cloth bandages. “We should re-dress your wound.”

Minutes pass and Villanelle feels the mattress sink with the weight of Eve, now seated next to her. But she doesn’t acknowledge the presence, her eyes remain focused on the ceiling—face blank and unfeeling. Pain rages at her side but she ignores it, instead, she focuses on the pounding of her heart in her ears. She sees from the corner of her eye Eve reaching to lift her shirt. Villanelle grabs her hand, squeezing tightly. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” she growls, throwing Eve’s hand aside.

Eve jumps up from the mattress, dropping the bandage and grabbing her now throbbing hand. “Fuck Villanelle, I was just trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” she snaps back, still staring at the ceiling. “I can do it myself,” she says a little softer.

“Fine. I have work to do anyways,” Eve says, her tone turned venomous. “Do whatever you want.” She walks quickly away, swallowing her anger. She feels tears building at the corners of her eyes and wipes them hastily with her sleeve. _Stupid, I’m so stupid…_ She grabs her work clothes and changes in the pantry, lest Villanelle should see–there’s not much privacy in a one room home. The front door creaks as she heads out into the morning light and slams hard as she walks away toward the barn.

Villanelle twitches at the sound of the slamming door but then remains still. She has counted 32 planks of wood from one side of the ceiling to the other. She counts again just to be sure. Clenches and unclenches her fists. Tries to control her breathing. And before she can psych herself out, she forces her body upright with a scream of pain. Breathing hard, she looks down to examine her wound. It’s red and swollen around the stitching but doesn’t look infected. She manages to rise out of bed and walks to the kitchen, searching. She finds the whiskey first, and takes a generous swig. She goes through the process of cleaning and dressing the wound, thankful no one can hear her moans of pain. She’s hungry and grabs some jerky she’s found stored on the counter, gnawing on it absentmindedly while leaning against the kitchen counter, plotting her next move. 

Memories continue to surface from the night before, refusing to settle in the recesses of her mind. She doesn’t want to think about how vulnerable she’d appeared in front of Eve, the confessions she’d made, the _feelings_ she’d shared. Feelings were dangerous, feelings led to pain. But Eve had confided in her, and so had Villanelle. It was a mistake to tell Eve how often she thought of her. It was a mistake to stay here, to let Eve get so close. She needed to get out and forget Eve and this shitty little town. 

Taking the whiskey bottle with her, she walks to Eve’s dresser. She needs something to wear on the road. Pulling open the top drawer, she finds mostly prairie skirts and blouses but in another drawer finds some worn-in Levis and a cowboy shirt. They fit okay, considering their height difference. The jeans hug Villanelle’s ass a little more than she’d like but it would have to do until she can reunite with her team at Green River. She takes another gulp of whiskey, throws on her boots, and walks out the door.

——————————

Saxano is not in the barn where Villanelle had left him. She walks past each stall to find them all empty, doors swinging idly. The barn is cool and gives off a sharp smell of hay and manure. She stands in the empty barn for a moment, guessing that Eve has let the horses out to graze. She walks to the back of the barn that opens toward the road and the ranch, kicks the heavy wood doors open, and steps into the morning sun.

It’s bright without her hat. She puts a hand up to shield her eyes and looks out across the field of grasses and dried scrub brush, squinting. Horses stand grazing in the large fenced off property next to the wood training pens. Eve has countless acres of fenced-in land and Villanelle worries she may not find Saxano for a while, not without talking to Eve. She sees no sign of him from her view by the barn. Worry begins to poke at the edges of her mind—she wasn’t going anywhere without her horse. She walks closer to the grazing horses, leaning up against the wooden fencing. She crosses her arms over the railing, one boot hiked up on the lower rung and rests her chin on her crossed wrists, looking out into the distance. She waits.

After a while, a form appears from far off. As it moves closer, she sees that it’s Eve—it must be Eve, her wild hair flowing behind her as she rides her horse at a devilish pace. It takes Villanelle a moment to process what she’s seeing, but her mouth eventually drops open, agast. Saxano’s powerful body pounds the earth as he runs, his muscles rippling in the sunlight as he’s driven through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels. Eve directs him like he’s a part of her. He cuts the corners powerfully, juking left and right at Eve’s will. At the final stretch Saxano runs at a full sprint, it’s magnificent to watch. He’s so fast that the speckled white dots on his black hide blur as he charges past Villanelle. Eve pulls up on his reigns and turns him back, noticing the other woman leaning over the fence. She brings Saxano back toward Villanelle at a canter and leans down to whisper something into the horse’s ear, patting his neck. He looks thoroughly exhausted but not dangerously so. Eve stops Saxano directly in front of Villanelle and peers down at her from under the brim of her hat. 

“He looked like he needed a good run, so I took him out. Hope you don’t mind.” Eve swings a leg over the saddle and drops to the ground gracefully, turning to stand directly in front of the bounty hunter.

Villanelle realizes her mouth is still hanging open in shock. She closes it quickly, making a face of surprise, her haughty facade shattered for the moment.

“I’ve…” she clears her throat. “I’ve never seen anyone else ride him.” Villanelle says quietly, finding it hard to maintain eye contact with Eve.

“Well he runs like a dream. Very responsive. He’s a beautiful horse, you’re very lucky.” Eve strokes his nose with her hand as she speaks. “I wonder who trained him….”

Villanelle ignores the question, still recovering from her shock. “I mean….he’s never _let_ anyone ride him except me. He usually bucks and thrashes like a wild animal if anyone tries. How did you….?” she trails off.

Eve can’t help but smile at that. “Well, far as I can tell, he’s a sweetheart.” She looks into Villanelle’s eyes when she says it, as if daring her to say otherwise. Villanelle meets her gaze but breaks it to look down at her hands, unresponsive. Eve hums to herself and turns around to begin unsaddling the horse. She unties the straps and buckles and then hauls the heavy leather saddle off Saxano’s back, carries it over her shoulder and hefts it across the railing next to Villanelle.

Eve dusts her hands on her jeans and hops the fence to land mere inches next to the bounty hunter, leaning her back against the railing.

“Nice outfit,” Eve says derisively.

“They’re _your_ clothes,” Villanelle replies, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t know how to handle this situation—her pride’s been broken. She supposes what she most feels is embarrassment for last night, for being so needy. She hates needing anything from anyone. Seeing Eve ride Saxano so commandingly only adds insult to injury. So she continues to look forward, avoiding eye contact in a pathetic show of protest. She stares out into the endless desert, watching the horses graze—their tails whipping at flies, muscles flexing. The sun is starting to burn the back of her neck. A headache begins to bloom at her temples. Eve crosses her arms and waits. Villanelle can feel her staring, waiting. The tension is palpable. A breeze picks up and whips at Eve’s hair, which finally drags Villanelle’s eye back to Eve.

“I guess I should get going then,” she says, looking at Eve with a neutral face, but it’s not quite convincing. 

There’s pain in those eyes, Eve can see that. But she doesn’t think it’s pain from her wound, it’s something else. She wants to reach out and cup Villanelle’s cheek, tell her that whatever it is, it’s ok. But she knows better now after this morning. Last night, Villanelle’s walls were down but today they’ve been completely resurrected. Eve hasn’t quite given up though, so she tries once more.

“Why don’t you come inside first? Let me make you breakfast before you head out. Give Saxano a break. He can graze with the rest of the horses a while.”

Villanelle bites her lower lip in consideration. She feels badly for how she treated Eve this morning. And that same flutter she feels around the woman is back with a vengeance. The whiskey has her head buzzing and she can’t shake the image of Eve commanding Saxano in such a beautiful, powerful display of grace and control. It turns her on, if she’s being honest with herself. And it’s hard to walk away from Eve, now that she’s here, standing before her. What could breakfast hurt?

“Sure. That sounds….nice”.

“I owe you a meal anyways, remember?”

Villanelle can’t help but grin at that. 

“Well, lead the way then.”

Eve walks a few paces ahead of Villanelle back toward the barn—it’s the shortest path to the house. Their boots crunch against rock and gravel and grit, spurs clinking at every step. Villanelle catches up, matching Eve’s stride to walk beside her, trying not so seem anxious even though her mind is racing, her stomach doing flips. She decides in this moment she’s done playing games, that from now on, she’ll be up-front with Eve. _It doesn’t matter_ , she thinks to herself. _I’ll probably never see her again._

They reach the barn and step inside. The barn doors close and latch behind them with a screech of rusty hinges, casting them immediately into darkness. It takes their eyes a minute to adjust, but images slowly start to appear thanks to the high coppola window and the beams of light shining through small cracks in the wood. And before she’s fully thought it through, Villanelle finds herself pushing Eve hard against the barn door—forearm across Eve’s chest, pinning her there. Eve makes a noise of surprise and then she freezes, eyes locked on the bounty hunter. Villanelle calmly places her other hand next to Eve’s head, fingers splayed against the worn wood. She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, taking in the woman’s smell—her warmth. She grazes her nose against Eve’s, their lips so close as she says “did you mean what you said last night? That you can’t stop thinking about me?”

Her voice strikes Eve’s body like a lit match. The sweet smell of whiskey and aching want cloud her mind as she tries to breathe. Her body vibrates with the shock of being thrown against the door, Villanelle’s voice low and heavy in her ears. She looks down to Villanelle’s lips and back to her hazel eyes, barely managing a _yes_ before Villanelle closes the distance and kisses her. 

Her lips are achingly soft but sure, moving from Eve’s lower lip and then the top, opening her up, willing her to respond. Eve’s mind is on fire as her hand latches onto Villanelle’s hip and the other angles Villanelle’s jaw to kiss her deeper, flicking her tongue inside. A moan escapes Villanelle’s mouth, and Eve moves to kiss along her jaw and down to the pulse of her neck. She’s dizzy with desire, her brain not entirely convinced this is real.

Villanelle lets her linger at her neck for a moment before throwing Eve back against the door, cradling the back of her head with her hand, a fist full of curls, pulling her head back, opening her whole mouth to Eve. Her other hand has found its way beneath Eve’s shirt and cups her breast, strokes a thumb across her nipple, eliciting a panting whine from the woman that sends Villanelle soaring. And suddenly, it’s Villanelle that’s being pushed. And before she can register that she’s falling, she finds herself lying on her back in a pile of dry hay.

Eve grins, her lips a lush red, her chest rising and falling in a heavy rhythm. She drops to her knees in the hay and crawls to Villanelle. Her hands sink through the brambled grasses, releasing the sharp smell of earth. Eve holds herself suspended over the blonde, straddling her hips, challenging her—watching her, waiting. Villanelle reaches for Eve’s face but it’s quickly slapped away. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” Eve smiles wickedly, and dips down to kiss Villanelle with a new found hunger, dragging a knee up between Villanelle’s legs, applying pressure.

“Oh _god_ ,” Villanelle gasps. She never expected Eve to take control like this. And it shocks her to find how turned on it makes her. She’s completely lost all power now, but she doesn’t care. Her hips start to grind up against Eve’s leg as Eve pulls her into a deeper, slower kiss. Her tongue dances inside Villanelle’s mouth as she lightly wraps a hand around her throat to hold her down. Villanelle moans greedily, taking everything she’s given—but she wants more.

Gasping for air, Villanelle breaks the kiss to grab at Eve’s belt. She unlocks the buckle with one hand and whips it through the loops of Eve’s jeans with a satisfying snap. She’s just about to pull at the metal buttons of Eve’s pants when they both hear the unmistakable clamor of a team of horses. Both women freeze, heads turned towards the sound. 

“Shit.” Eve hisses. She takes one quick, aching glance back down at Villanelle before she’s up and brushing herself off, shaking hay from her mane of hair. “I’ll go see who it is. Wait here.” Eve steps back out into the light and closes the door, leaving Villanelle in the dark.

——————————

The “team” of horses turns out to only consist of three riders. Eve can make out Bill at the front of the pack, leading the others up the main road to Eve’s ranch. They stop their horses just outside the barn. Eve tips her hat and makes a small wave of hello. She sees Frank seated next to Bill and is surprised to see Elena to his left.

“Morning Eve, how goes it?” Bill says, all smiles.

“Oh, fine Bill. Just mucking out the horse stalls. I’m sorry, I’m not quite dressed for visitors.” She makes a show of brushing off more of the hay stuck to her pants and shirt.

“Yes, sorry to barge in on you like this Eve but it’s a bit of an emergency.” Bill hops down from his horse, his arm still wrapped in a sling. The other two follow his lead and come to stand next to Eve. Elena gives her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“You look flushed dear, you feeling ok?” Elena asks.

“Oh no really? Yeah I’m fine just haven’t eaten yet.” she blushes. “So…. what’s going on?”

Bill clears his throat and looks at Frank who’s staring down at the ground. Not getting the hint, Bill elbows him in the shoulder to get his attention.

“Ah! Um, right. Eve, we wanted to let you know we’ve had some bad news. Or, well, it’s difficult news. We had visitors in town yesterday, a whole team of them.”

“Fucking assholes, what they are,” Elena inturupts.

“Well, yes they weren’t very friendly. Terrifying, in fact. Anyway, they produced some documents claiming eminent domain over the land of Franksville, and the surrounding area.”

“I don’t know what that means Frank.” Eve says, a hand on her hip.

“What it means,” Bill interjects, “is that Charles Crocker of the Central Pacific Railroad is buying us out of our homes and businesses for pennies on the dollar. They’re going to kick us all out Eve, you and your ranch included.”

“They can’t do that. How can they do that?” Eve asks, trying not to sound panicked. 

“They’re claiming eminent domain over this area of Wayne County.” Elena explains. “Essentially, they have permission from the government to take over our town and build a railroad right through it. They want it because we’re close to the river and we’re easy pickings.” 

“It’s the government’s way of saying they only see us as a speck on the map, and they can move us right off if they see fit to.” Bill says bitterly.

Eve, exasperated, looks to Frank. “Did you say _anything_ to this, Frank? Did you tell them to…. I don’t know, fuck off?!”

“Frank didn’t say shit.” Bill grins at her, shrugging his shoulders, but he can’t manage to hide the worry in his eyes.

“There’s nothing I could do!” Frank yells. “They had at least 12 armed men, official documents from the government. What option did I have?”

“You could convince them it’s not worth their trouble,” says a voice from behind Eve.

All eyes turn to look over Eve’s shoulder. Eve follows their gaze and is horrified to see Villanelle walking toward them, hands in her jean pockets, a smug look of confidence on her face. 

“What the fuck is _she_ doing here?” Bill growls, looking at Eve for an explanation.

Eve suddenly feels faint, her cheeks growing hot. 

“Eve’s helping me with my horse.” Her spurs clink with each step as she moves closer to the group. “He got hurt when we ambushed Wyatt and his gang yesterday. I heard she’s the best around here when it comes to horses.” Villanelle stands next to Eve, a daring look in her eye.

“What the hell Eve?” Elena says. Her eyes are wide with worry and her voice shakes a little. “You _do_ remember she shot Bill, right?”

“I…..” Eve starts. She shakes her head and looks guiltily at Bill. “I think that was an overreaction on her part. Right?” She looks to Villanelle for support, her eyes pleading with the bounty hunter not to say anything stupid.

“I can get a little trigger happy, Bill—is it? When I feel threatened I tend to shoot first and apologize later. So, I’m sorry, I guess.” 

“You _guess_?!” Bill’s face has turned a full shade of red. “You guess you’re sorry? You’re fucking nuts. I know who you are. You’re a full blown murderer, you’re—”

“Wait,” Elena says, cutting him off. “Did you say you took out Zipp Wyatt and his entire crew?”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Villanelle says cockily—crossing her arms over her chest. “It was pretty easy.”

Eve looks straight ahead, struggling desperately not to roll her eyes at that statement.

“So….that would mean you’re for hire again, right?” Elena asks curiously.

“What are you getting at?” Bill asks her, still fuming.

“What if we hired her? Her team of three took out Wyatt’s entire gang,” she says to the group.

“I’m not following,” Frank says.

“When are you ever following, Frank?” Elena says, exasperated. “What did you say about making it not worth their trouble?” She’s looking at Villanelle now, all business, eyebrows raised.

Villanelle rocks on her heels for a moment and grins saying “you could make it difficult for them. You know, put up a fight? Make yourselves more trouble than you’re worth. The railroad can go wherever it pleases. Why not convince them to move on to the next town?” 

Eve takes a step forward and asks, “Elena, are you suggesting we hire Villanelle and her team to...what? Scare off the railroad baron? Kill off his men? Are you fucking serious?” 

“We could handle it.” Villanelle says, looking at Elena.

“No, no. No no no that is NOT happening.” Bill is visibly shaking. “We’re a civilized town. We’re not like the other outposts around here. We’re not— _lawless_.”

“Well you’re about to be _townless_ so maybe you should consider letting the outlaws handle it.” Villanelle’s shark smile is back and gleaming in the sun.

“What’s in it for you?” Frank asks Villanelle sheepishly.

“Me?” Villanelle glances at Eve quickly and then back at Frank, hands on her hips. “Well the money, obviously. But it also wouldn’t be boring.”

Everyone stares at her, dumbstruck. 

Elena is the first to speak. “You want to do this for…. _fun_? Jesus Bill, you're right, she _is_ a nutbag.”

“Told you,” Bill mutters.

“Alright!” Eve interjects loudly. “Everyone just shut up for a minute.” She closes her eyes and massages her temples. “How much time do we have until the railroad men come back?”

“A week,” Frank says.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Elena sighs.

“What if….” Frank says, “what if we had the town take a vote? Maybe some of them want to fight. Maybe it’s not the craziest idea.”

“I can’t believe this,” Bill says, shaking his head. “If you want to break the news to the town, Frank, be my guest. Take a vote. And count my vote as a ‘no’.“

“It’s stupid, really fucking stupid. But I say we do it. Eve?” Elena looks to her imploringly.

Eve stares through Elena, feeling numb. So much has happened in the last 24 hours, she doesn’t know what to think about anything. She turns to look at Villanelle, rocking on her heels, kicking at the dirt—clearly already bored with the conversation. She’s the perfect picture of youth and carelessness. Beauty and danger. It magnetizes Eve, holds her in its grip. She thinks of their kiss and shivers with the memory of it. She looks at Bill with his arm in its sling and feels anger simmering in her gut. Everything is all so tangled and confused. Nothing makes sense anymore. But she knows things are different now. Something has changed inside of her, and now she _wants_ things with such intensity it frightens her. Everyone else be damned. 

“Fuck it. I’m in.”

——————————

They watch as Bill, Elena, and Frank turn their horses and head back toward town. Frank would break the news to the townspeople tonight and hold a vote about what should be done.

Once the horses have disappeared from sight Eve turns around and walks swiftly toward the house without so much as a glance at the bounty hunter. 

“Hey!” Villanelle yells at her back. But Eve keeps moving, disappearing around the barn and out of sight.

Villanelle frowns to herself. Did she do something wrong? Probably. She was always doing something wrong. Sighing, she walks back toward the grazing horses and decides they probably should go back to the barn to be fed. She leads them one by one back to their stables, gives them fresh water from the well and loads their troughs with oats. Saxano she takes in last, gives him a good brushing and a full pan of food then heads toward the house.

She walks inside to find Eve in the kitchen. The room smells heavenly of bacon and coffee. Breakfast is on the table but Eve has her back to the front door. She’s at the sink looking out the kitchen window, just staring. 

Villanelle walks up behind her, places her hands on Eve’s hips and turns her around swiftly. They’re inches apart, Villanelle holds Eve close, staring into her eyes.

“I’m expensive,” she says, gripping Eve’s waist with one hand while the other traces a path from her neck and slowly down between Eve’s breasts. But Eve doesn’t back away, instead, she places a hand at the small of Villanelle’s back and holds her there.

“I know,” Eve says, her voice soft and husky.

“Will you give me everything I want?” 

Eve reaches out with her other hand to cup Villanelle’s cheek. She leans in so close Villanelle can feel their lips brush as Eve whispers,

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. Comments keep me going so thank you as always. I think I'll try something a little more NSFW next chapter unless it's horrible. I'll try my hardest. haha
> 
> Yee-haw and carry on.


	9. Save a Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg this was a difficult chapter to write. I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> Some side-bars for my nerds out there before we get going. 
> 
> -The song mentioned in the chapter dates back to the 1870's but if you click the link, I'm giving you the best arrangement by none other than Nina Simone (though it likely sounded nothing like this).
> 
> -I do not condone bathing with a flesh wound under any circumstances. But we're doing this for the sake of Fiction.
> 
> -these are pictures of Sandra Oh from an _actual_ western she was in called Lonesome Dove. (thanks @kindofhunger)
> 
> [](https://ibb.co/vYP0Ds5) [](https://ibb.co/chGD48z)
> 
> **And a huuuge thank you to fizzydoctor for beta'ing this chapter and leading me to drink while hiding under a blanket.
> 
> Enjoy my first attempt at smut. lol

_“Will you give me everything I want?”_

_Eve reaches out with her other hand to cup Villanelle’s cheek. She leans in so close Villanelle can feel their lips brush as Eve whispers,_

_“Yes.”_

Villanelle’s grip on Eve’s waist tightens as she tries to contain the overwhelming excitement welling up from the depths of her body. She doesn’t wait for Eve to say more. She needs to feel her in every possible way. She latches on to Eve’s mouth desperately, pressing her chest tight to Eve’s as if trying to absorb her completely. 

Eve responds in kind, her actions just as frantic—fighting for air, chasing each other’s moans and tongues and lips. Eve cradles Villanelle’s head in her hands in an attempt to control the angle, the degree to which she can access Villanelle’s mouth, her jaw, her neck. The bounty hunter clings to Eve’s shirt desperately, as if in fear of being torn away in the violent waves of desire—pleasure cresting on each kiss and crashing back down to her core. Eve feels the material start to rip—she surfaces for air.

“Villanelle, wait.”

“But…” Villanelle still clings to Eve, her mouth now sucking gently at the hollow of Eve’s throat. “You said _everything_ , and I want…” Villanelle places a hand at the center of Eve’s chest and sighs, “all of you.”

“Villanelle, I—“

“We were so rudely interrupted in the barn, I would have…” she trails off breathlessly, drawn back to the expanse of Eve’s neck, fingers combing through waves of dark hair.

“I wasn’t actually going to let you fuck me in the barn, Villanelle,” Eve says smiling, head thrown back looking up at the ceiling, enjoying the soft lips nipping a path from under her jaw to her shoulder.

“I think you were though…”

“I wasn’t.”

“You _were_ …”

“No,” she gasps at a hard bite on her collarbone, “I wasn’t.”

 _She was_. 

She would have let Villanelle fuck her in that pile of hay, all restraint and self-control gone at the time. But she’d regained some sanity in the time between then and now. And as Eve pulls Villanelle’s face away, she looks down to find red blooming across the side of her shirt.

“Nel…. you’re bleeding again.”

The bounty hunter doesn’t have time to register the new pet name Eve’s suddenly adopted. She’s looking down at her waist in annoyance, a splotch of blood sure enough growing wider like watercolor dropped on canvas.

“Ugh, not _again_.” 

“Let me see.” Eve lifts the bloody side of the shirt and removes the soaked bandage to assess the stitching. It looks intact, but the sustained _activity_ from this morning has clearly aggravated the wound. “You should have stayed in bed today. You need to let this heal.”

“Or maybe you shouldn’t have thrown me into a pile of hay,” Villanelle says with a shrug and a toss of her hair.

“Don’t be a dick.” Eve pauses to skate her fingers around the bruised flesh, causing Villanelle to hiss in pain. “I know you loved it.” Eve looks to Villanelle’s face for a reaction. The bounty hunter’s eyes go wide and a muscle in her cheek twitches slightly, then curls into a wicked smile. 

“Are you going to throw me around, Eve?”

Eve can’t help but smile to herself, but she doesn’t let Villanelle see. She needs things to slow down, she needs time to understand what is happening. She needs… _control_. 

“You need to rest. And I’m going to make you a bath.” Eve says, ignoring the question.

“But you said _everything_.” And her face has suddenly transformed from mischievous minx to pouting child in mere seconds.

Eve lets out a small laugh at the mini-tantrum. It was adorable and it was arrogant and Eve wasn’t going to fall for it. 

“You’ll get what you’re given and on _my_ terms.” Eve pauses to consider the young, querulous blond. “When’s the last time you bathed? A long time, I’m willing to bet.”

Villanelle takes a step back, affronted. She glares at Eve, trying to decide whether or not to be offended. Normally, she wouldn’t tolerate anyone telling her what to do or even remotely insult her. With Eve, it is different— _which is concerning_ , she thinks. And come to think of it, no one has ever denied her sex when she wants it, and she’s surprised that it only increases her desire—rather than bore her. And a bath _does_ sound nice. She’s been on the road for a week sleeping on the ground and she would like to get out of these clothes, if not because of the blood, then for the uncomfortable wetness between her thighs...

“Fine,” she says, still pouting, hands on her hips. “And I’ll need a pen and paper. I have a letter to write.”

“Great. Sit down and eat. Write your letter—the desk is in the corner. It’s going to take me a while to fill the tub.” Eve walks past her and opens the back door by the kitchen to head toward well. Just before the screen door slams she swears she hears Villanelle mumble,

“Whatever you say, _boss_.”

—————

Villanelle sits at the kitchen table and pours herself coffee, humming a little tune she’s heard in multiple saloons across the West in recent months. It was something about sweeping a woman off her feet, taking her away to the big city. Songs were always about whisking women away. Villanelle was fond of doing the same, though she inevitably left them where she found them. She half hums, half sings the first few verses she can remember as she strolls around Eve’s house, touching everything and moving each item slightly out of place:

“I’ve got a home in San Antone, l’il Liza Jane  
Tumbleweeds and cactus grow, l’il Liza Jane

Come my love and live with me, l’il Liza Jane  
[”I will take good care of thee, Li’l Liza Jane"](https://youtu.be/DZT7cMm37XM)

She’s in a remarkably good mood despite the burning pain at her side. Her lips are pleasantly sore from kissing Eve— _she seems to really like me_ , Villanelle thinks. _I like her too. I like her a lot_. She grabs some bacon and eggs off the table and walks over to sit at Eve’s desk. _She’s not afraid of me either_. Most women were—they found Villanelle charming and attractive but there was always a flash of fear in their eyes when she was with them. It never really bothered her, it made her feel powerful. But experiencing the way Eve treats her, the way Eve talks to her...it makes her nervous, giddy even. She can’t quite describe it. Eve has confidence, independence—she isn’t used to seeing that in other women. Villanelle was starting to think she was the only one. Maybe her and Eve weren’t so different. Maybe that’s why she can’t get the woman out of her head. 

Dipping a pen in ink, she begins her letter:

_Konstantin,_

_I am alive, in case you were wondering. I’m assuming you made it to Green River with the body and collected our bounty. I have what I think will be another job for us. Come back to Franksville and bring Hugo. Actually, we will probably need a few more men. Pick ones we’ve worked with before, but not the annoying ones. I’m staying at the horse ranch outside of town with Eve. Do you remember her? I will introduce you, you will like her. She has amazing hair. We are friends now. Well...more than friends actually. More like colleagues. Or… well, I’ll tell you later._

_XO, V  
P.S. bring the money and lots of guns, thanks._

Villanelle hears the back door creak open just as she’s folding her letter into a neat square. She looks up to find Eve standing in the doorway leaning on her hip against the doorframe.

“Bath’s ready, come on.”

Villanelle follows Eve outside to find herself standing in a make-shift sauna. Two perpendicular walls made of oak provide some privacy surrounding a large tub, but there’s no ceiling—just open sky. A fire crackles further away beneath a cast iron tripod used to suspend pots for boiling water. She can see steam rising from the tub and a bar of ivory soap placed on a bench with a towel. She stands over the steaming water and notices the pleasant smell of lemon and cedar. 

“Is that a Sears, Roebuck and Co. bathtub?”

“Uh.. yeah I think so, why?”

Villanelle shrugs and stares off blankly for a minute before answering. “I have a thing about bathtubs.”

“Oh...ok...” 

“What’s that stuff floating in the water?”

“Juniper pine. Smells nice, right?”

“Yeah,” Villanelle trails off, “really nice.”

“Here, let me help you.” Eve moves in close and begins unbuttoning Villanelle’s bloodied work shirt. “I should probably just burn this,” Eve says, chuckling to herself.

Villanelle, again, is suprised by Eve’s forwardness but tries to appear unphased. “Well, it looked like shit anyways.”

“Hey! Don’t be a dick,” Eve gives her a light push, but she’s smiling. She’s undone the last button but hasn’t removed the shirt from Villanelle’s shoulders. She looks Villanelle in the eye and asks, “May I?”

Villanelle gives a slight nod of her head. Her pulse starts to quicken. Eve removes the bloodied shirt and lets it fall to the ground at their feet. Eve still hasn’t looked down. She’s watching Villanelle’s expression, her hazel eyes flittering side to side, lips slightly parted in anticipation. 

“Is it ok if I…..?”

Eve is being so very polite, Villanelle finds it impossibly cute. She takes a few steps backward and leans against the wall, hands tucked behind her back, her chest on full display and her voice coy, “Please.”

Eve allows her eyes to slowly wander down the length of Villanelle’s body and she thinks to herself that she’s never been witness to anything more beautiful. She follows the contour of Villanelle’s form like a painter, starting at the smooth curve of her neck and sweeping down to meet sharp collar bones that fan out into muscled shoulders and lean biceps bronzed from the sun. Her gaze brushes further down to her breasts. They’re lovely, impossibly perfect—nipples turned hard from the open air. Her eyes trail lower to her flat stomach and the sharp curves of her hips. Her jeans ride low, leading the eye to follow the ‘V’ of her hip bones down to the point just above her fly. Eve feels dizzy with want, like she might be sick. She swallows hard, finally breaking her gaze and says, “Right! So, I think I’ll leave the rest to you. Take as long as you like, I’ll be out with the horses. Just going to…”

But Villanelle is already removing her boots. She presses her shoulders back against the wall for support, pelvis angled forward as she slowly starts to unbutton her jeans. Villanelle is a natural exhibitionist—she wants eyes on her at all times, especially when it comes to women, especially when it comes to _this_ woman. Her gaze hasn’t left Eve’s this entire time. It seems to have locked Eve in place. Eve’s eyes are wide, her pupils dilated, her breathing heavy and slow. But she hasn’t looked away, she hasn’t moved an inch, and that’s all the assurance Villanelle needs to slip her thumbs under the waist of her pants and push them down to her feet, kicking them to the side.

Leaning against the wall, now completely naked, Villanelle pauses to watch Eve watching her. Her stomach flutters with the thrill of it—the thrill of being viewed, of being desired. The effect is clearly marked across Eve’s cheeks and neck, now flushed with pink. She appears to have stopped breathing.

“Eve? Are you ok?”

Eve blinks slowly and takes in a deep breath. “I—I don’t know. You’re just so….you’re so—“

“Beautiful?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Eve answers immediately, tripping over the word.

Villanelle hums in response. She pushes herself off the wall and starts to walk toward Eve, oh so casually. It’s a saunter that screams confidence, radiates power. It has Eve fully hypnotized. She’s unable to move or speak, all she can do is _look_. 

Villanelle stops inches in front of Eve, and for the first time appreciates their height difference. Eve still looks straight ahead, as if in a trance—staring a hole into the notch at the base of Villanelle’s throat. Villanelle huffs from the lack of attention and raises her hand to Eve’s chin, lifting her head up to meet her eyes. 

“Thank you for the bath,” Villanelle murmurs and places a chaste kiss on Eve’s lips.

Eve closes her eyes, expecting more. But the hand holding her chin is gone and when she opens her eyes, Villanelle is already in the bath fully submerged. A satisfied groan escapes her lips as she relaxes into the heat. A dripping hand languishes over the lip of the tub and Eve can’t help but notice the length of those fingers. A shiver runs through her body as she wakes herself from Villanelle’s spell.

“Enjoy your bath…” Eve says, her mind a blur. She doesn’t give the bounty hunter any time to respond. She turns around and walks back into the house.

——————————

Villanelle eventually leaves the tub. Her muscles feel more relaxed, though her gunshot wound rages with pain; she ignores the sensation like she does with most things. She’s just thankful to be clean. She combs through her wet hair, slicks it back against her neck and moves outside to stand in the sun. She closes her eyes, focuses her breathing and enjoys the dry desert air, cool against her wet skin. She tries to think on the night before, what was said and the care Eve took with her. Her heart races with the memory. Tenderness is not a gift often bestowed on Villanelle, not since Anna, but Eve offers something other than tenderness. Her edges are hard, like her own, and she knows they can cut. She can see it in Eve’s eyes, she can sense it like an aura that surrounds her. She needs to have this woman, this beautiful woman with the amazing hair and powerful presence. But what comes after? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know if she much cares.

Wrapping the towel around her body, she walks back into the house and stands in the kitchen. It takes her a moment and she almost jumps when she finds Eve sitting at the table looking out toward the living room and the bed, quietly waiting. 

“Hello, Eve—”

Eve doesn’t seem to hear her. She instead stands, turns the kitchen chair around and straddles it—hands crossed around its back. She doesn’t look at Villanelle when she says,

“Lie down on the bed.” There’s an eerie coldness to Eve’s tone. 

“ _Excuse me_? ” 

“I want you on the bed, on your back. Now.”

Villanelle gives Eve a long, hard stare and a sharply raised eyebrow before dropping her towel in a small show of defiance, as if to say, _like this?_

But Eve doesn’t see, she keeps her eyes facing forward. Her voice grows louder, more commanding. “Bed. _Now_.” 

Villanelle feels a sharp thrum echo through her body, like a bow pulled taut and released deep within her chest.

“A little bossy, don’t you think?” 

Villanelle’s favorite form of defense is sarcasm, she wears it like a second skin. But she does what she’s told, not entirely sure why—she doesn’t really want to know why. 

She makes a show of walking slowly in front of Eve as she moves toward the bed. She takes a seat on the mattress, now facing her, but Eve doesn’t raise her eyes to the bounty hunter. Villanelle frowns from the lack of attention, confused. Eve remains silent. In a pouty show of impatience, Villanelle lies on her back with a huff and stares at a now familiar ceiling.

With a sudden screech of the chair, Eve walks around the table and stands over the blond, appreciating her lithe body and lean muscles. Villanelle’s eyes dart to Eve’s face, curious but petulant. Without preamble, Eve begins to remove her clothes in a slow, calculating show of control—the voyeur becoming the exhibitionist. Villanelle watches transfixed. She tries to raise herself up but the pain at her side is too great and she lets out a grunt of frustration as she falls back down onto the bed.

“I think you should stay lying down,” Eve says calmly as she removes the last of her clothing.

And before Villanelle can collect herself, Eve is crawling on top of her, straddling her waist and staring into her eyes. Their breasts brush lightly against one another’s and Villanelle can feel Eve’s wet arousal on her stomach. But Eve doesn’t move except to pin Villanelle’s arms above her head. She’s staring at Villanelle with a calculating look of mischief. 

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

“What’s the point?” Eve says defiantly. She hears Villanelle’s small gasp of surprise.

“... _What?_ ”

“I know you’re already wet for me.”

Villanelle’s eyes go wide as she laughs at Eve’s brazenness. “Well fuck, Eve...”

And suddenly, Villanelle feels like a ragdoll as Eve quickly positions herself between Villanelle’s legs and grabs her by the tops of her thighs to pull her down the bed. She pushes Villanelle’s thighs back, bent at the knees, and spreads her wide—fully exposing her sex. Eve chuckles at the bounty hunter’s glistening pudenda and smiles, looking up at Villanelle in triumph. Villanelle’s face has gone red, her breasts heaving, mouth parted and waiting to see what comes next. “Eve, what are you—”

She’s interrupted by a tongue dipping into her wet heat and strong hands digging bruises into the back of her thighs. Villanelle lets out a small “ _oh_ ” of surprise as she feels the flat of Eve’s tongue lick hard and slow against her clit and then back down, tongue thrusting inside, and back up again. Villanelle’s mind has gone blank. A high, sharp buzz penetrates her brain like a struck tuning fork; reverberations crash down on her in a wave of pleasure and she’s _gone_. She reaches down to cling to Eve’s hair, weaving her fingers through thick waves of black.

“God, you feel so good,” Villanelle chokes out.

Eve groans in response as she feels long fingers grip her hair, guiding her further in. And without warning, Eve slips three fingers easily inside the blond while sucking and flicking at her clit with her tongue. Eve sighs heavily as soon as she enters her—reveling in the warmth and depth of her pussy as she thrusts with heavy, slow strokes. “Does that feel good?” Eve purrs, momentarily lifting her mouth to look up.

Villanelle’s eyes are closed tight, she bites her lower lip and manages a breathless “ _yes_ ” between low whines from each thrust. She’s rocking into Eve’s face now unabashedly, eager for Eve’s fingers to reach her further, harder, faster. She gasps as she reaches a new peak, close to coming undone and husks, “Eve, I think...I’m…”

“No,” Eve murmurs between her legs.

She abruptly removes her mouth and her fingers and rests on her knees, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm.

“I want to feel you before you come.”

And like before, Villanelle’s body is being manipulated again with ease. Eve straddles herself over Villanelle’s pussy, lowers herself slowly so that they’re clits can touch. They moan in unison at the contact, warm and wet and pulsing.

Eve begins to rock back and forth, searching for a sweet spot, applying pressure and removing pressure, creating suction and friction at the same time. She finds a rhythm, grips the leg thrown over her shoulder and slides her other hand up Villanelle’s stomach to help anchor herself.

“So first you think you can ride my horse,” Villanelle says breathlessly, “and now you think you can ride _me?_ ”

“Mhm..” Eve isn’t really listening. Her eyes are closed, lost in a reverie of pleasure as her pussy slips against the bounty hunter’s own.

Villanelle delivers a hard, biting slap to Eve’s ass cheek and grips it tightly. “Fucking _ride me_ then,” she growls.

Eve’s eyes fly open, realizing what Villanelle wants. She looks down to regard the fierce, feral woman below her. Villanelle is panting heavily and her eyes have turned black with lust, her smile is sinister and sharp—as if issuing a challenge.

Eve doesn’t hesitate. She rides her, hard, increasing her tempo two-fold. Villanelle’s hands are now on Eve’s hips guiding her down and across her cunt, eliciting a moan deep within her as she watches their pussies meet over and over and over again with wet slaps. It’s dirty and it’s erotic and “so...fucking...good,” Villanelle pants. “Fuck, Eve. Right… _there. Fuck!_ ”

Eve takes a long slow breath, trying to tamp down her pleasure as she ruts against Villanelle. She wants this to last as long as possible but she can already feel herself starting to fall off the edge. Villanelle’s head is thrown back, mouth agape, holding on to Eve’s hips for dear life. She lets out a long, primal sob of ecstasy that’s punctuated by each thrust.

“Eve…” Villanelle says her name like a prayer. It’s soft and far away. 

“ _Fuck_ , Villanelle.” Eve can feel her orgasm building, a sweet fire licking at her core. Eve is greedy with her pleasure, she covets it—desperate to control it. She tries to hold it in check, not let it consume her. She’s enjoying herself more than she thought possible. She’s high on power, craving Villanelle’s orgasm. 

“Look at me,” Eve commands, her voice so low, it’s foreign to her own ears.

Villanelle does as she’s told and looks directly into Eve’s eyes—there’s a fierce look of focus but she’s smiling now. “Do you want to come, baby?” she asks hungrily, emphasizing her question by grinding even harder into Villanelle’s sopping cunt. Villanelle lets out another choked sob, tears swimming at the corners of her eyes as she watches Eve’s ab muscles flexing with each thrust, cunts slapping and rubbing together obscenely. She reaches out to cup Eve’s breast and then lightning strikes.

“Oh god. Eve!!” she screams, head thrown back.

“Come for me baby, come for….oh _fuck!_ ”

Their orgasms rip through each other violently, deliciously, causing Eve to collapse against Villanelle’s chest, forehead pressed against her shoulder as she slides against Villanelle greedily, their pussies impossibly wet, riding out each wave, heaving and moaning and gasping for air.

Villanelle holds Eve against her chest, an arm wrapped tightly around her back while a hand dances lightly up and down Eve’s spine. Their bodies shine with sweat, their breathing is low and ragged. Villanelle lifts Eve’s face to meet her own and asks, panting, 

“Will you kiss me now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to the man, Luke Jennings, for giving us word-choice gems such as "pudenda". Bless.
> 
> Leave some comments if you feel so inclined. 
> 
> Yee-(and I can not stress this enough)- _haw_


	10. Ride a Cowgirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well this is just fucking weird hope you're ready.
> 
> NSFW

The local Navajo call the sprawling mountain range surrounding Franksville the Unknown Mountains— Dził Bizhiʼ Ádiní, the mountain whose name is missing. Where did its name go? Eve often wonders. Maybe the mountain’s name was lost to time, hidden away beneath generations of people who had no need for names. Or maybe the mountain never had a name, just as time has no body. And who can track time if it has no shape? How can you know something with no name?

Eve doesn’t know how much time has passed. But she knows what she’s heard, what she’s seen, what she’s tasted, smelled, touched. The evidence lay all around her. On her skin and in her hair, on her lips and on her fingers. She could try and trace time by following the marks she’s made on the body next to hers. On her neck, on her breasts, between her legs. But she would soon find herself lost in the sight and the smell of her. And oh god, the taste of her. Time would slip away again like shadows grown tall across the floor. She resigns herself to not knowing. She lets herself be lost. 

“Nell?”

Villanelle draws her lips away from Eve’s neck to look at her. She smiles languidly, eyes blinking slowly. Their bodies are tangled, legs between legs. Her fingers have not left Eve’s hair. She combs them gently through dark curls. “What is it?”

“Are you in a lot of pain?” she whispers, “I’m sorry, we probably shouldn’t have….but you were just so—“

She’s cut off with a kiss, it’s deep and desperate and searching. So much for talking. And who wants to talk when mouths are made for other things. She feels a tongue brush lightly against her lips and she opens willingly. Eve imagines that tongue moving across her body as she feels it slide against her mouth, across her tongue. She feels a shiver, then a tingling heat run down the length of her body. Would she ever tire of this? How long have they been fucking? Judging by the amber light of the room, it’s been quite some time. Villanelle, one hand cradled in Eve’s hair, moves her other hand down between Eve’s breasts and traces them, fingers graceful and light. Her kisses haven’t let up in intensity, but they’re sensual and slow. It leaves Eve feeling submerged. She feels herself growing wet again and moans into the kiss, wondering if she’ll ever escape; if she’ll ever come up for air again.

“Get on top of me.” Villanelle gasps and stares into Eve’s dark brown eyes. “I want to taste you.”

The words hit Eve’s brain like a bullet and sends a wave of heat down to her cunt. “Ok but---“

Villanelle’s strong arms pull Eve on top of her. She places her hands on the back of Eve’s thighs, pulling them forward, toward her chest. “Come here.” Her voice is raspy with want. “Please, let me take care of you.”

Eve is hesitant but excited. She moves as if in a trance and whispers “like this?” She’s straddling Villanelle’s face, hands propped against the headboard of the bed.

“Yes baby,” Villanelle chuckles lightly. “But lower, so I can have you in my mouth.”

Eve lets out a moan of want and spreads her thighs, slowly lowering her center to meet Villanelle’s awaiting lips. She feels hands press against her ass, encouraging her. When she feels a tongue circle around her opening she closes her eyes and whimpers with pleasure and excitement. “Oh my god Nell, shit that feels good.”

Villanelle slowly licks across Eve’s pussy, pausing to look up at Eve’s face. Her mouth hangs open and her eyes are closed tight, hands gripped tightly on the edge of the headboard. She feels Eve’s hips thrust lightly down onto Villanelle’s mouth. “Please, don’t stop,” she whispers. She takes one more second to gaze up at the beautiful woman above her before closing her eyes and licking up and into Eve with abandon. 

Eve is shocked by how good Villanelle’s tongue feels against her clit. But of course she would be good at this. She looks down to watch as Villanelle eats her out with enthusiasm, moaning into her and breathing hard with the effort. Watching her do this to her body, watching her _enjoy_ her body so thoroughly turns her on even more. It causes something to shift, something primal inside her to take over. She doesn’t know who she is any longer, can’t recognize her own voice when she says, “do you like tasting my pussy, baby?” One of her hands has found its way down to Villanelle’s blond hair. She grabs a fistfull and tugs Villanelle’s face up and into her cunt to meet the steady thrusts of her hips. All Villanelle can do is moan in response. She uses her hands to grip Eve’s ass and help guide her so that her tongue never leaves Eve’s clit for long. 

Arousal coats Villanelle’s mouth and chin as Eve fucks her face. There’s no control now, Eve is in another world and Villanelle lets her use her as she wants. Sensing that she’s close, she moves a hand between Eve’s legs and inserts three fingers to meet Eve’s thrusts. Eve is so wet she could probably take Villanelle’s entire fist, but the sudden sensation of Villanell’s long fingers pulls Eve over the edge. She rides Villanelle hard, crying out in pleasure as her orgasm takes over her body. She feels a fourth finger spread her wider and she takes it greedily all the while grinding into Villanelle’s mouth. Villanelle feels Eve’s cunt tighten around her hand and a warm gush of liquid fill her mouth as Eve’s orgasm reaches it peak. She swallows it gladly, and continues to lick until Eve removes a shaking thigh away from her head and lies down on her back in exhausted bliss.

Eve turns to look at Villanelle and groans. “Fuck, I’ve made a mess of you.” 

Villanelle hums in agreement, and laughs as she grabs for the towel left on the ground from her bath. She wipes her face and rolls onto her side to hover over Eve. She looks down on the older woman, whose eyes are now closed, and thinks she’s the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. She leans down to kiss Eve softly on the lips before nestling against her body, sighing deeply. “I don’t think I’ll ever get your smell out of my nose,” she chides, kissing lightly against Eve’s neck.

Eve lets out a bark of laughter. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love it.” Villanelle smiles into her neck and nuzzles her nose under Eve’s jaw, holding her tight.

Eve stares at the ceiling. She feels a simmering calm and a warmth that grows and stretches across her chest in waves. She doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she can see how dusk has settled into the corners of the room. How Villanelle’s skin glows in soft pinks and oranges, how the air has turned cold against their damp skin as the desert heat descends into darkness. Eve closes her eyes and smiles. She wants this moment to last forever, for time to disappear. But she knows time will never slow, will never bend. She resigns herself to time’s mercy, and loses herself in her lover’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll write some actual plot later. This just kind of came out. lol
> 
> Oh and thank you for the kind words in the comments from my last update. (I deleted it so I could still have a chapter 10) Things are getting better I think? But you know, life is messy.


	11. Back in Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back bitches.
> 
> Do me a favor and picture that AC/DC song when Villanelle makes her entrance. You'll know when. ;) I'll make it easy on you and give you a link.
> 
> Oh! and thank you Haley and Dina for reading this through and catching all of my spelling mistakes. lol

Eve wakes to the smell of frying salt pork and coffee. Black hair cascades across her face in a mess of curls and tangles. She’s naked, which is unusual for her; she often sleeps clothed and tightly covered under many layers. Face buried into her pillow, Eve peeks with one eye open toward the kitchen. Villanelle busies herself at the wood stove, grinning like an idiot, dressed in Eve’s jeans and a button up left gratuitously unbuttoned. The sight of her breasts brings flashes of memory from the night before, sending a rush of blood to Eve’s face and down between her thighs. She reasons with herself to be calm, keep the racing thoughts at bay for just a minute longer. She can’t quite identify the sensation fluttering in her chest, the simultaneous leap of excitement yanked back by a leash of panic. 

“Don’t worry, I fed the horses. They’re out grazing,” Villanelle remarks casually as she begins plating breakfast. Beans cooked with salt pork. Greens from the small garden out back. A large pot of coffee. “Stop pretending to sleep and come and eat. I want to go into town.”

The flutter settles low in her belly, tight and warm. Her head buzzes pleasantly as she realizes this is the first time a woman has made her breakfast after a night in her bed. She props herself up on her elbows, lying on her stomach, and eyes Villanelle suspiciously. She tries to look annoyed but her smile breaks through anyway.

Villanelle points her spoon at Eve with a raised eyebrow. “You look cute, by the way.”

“I look like shit,” Eve responds with a smirk. She gathers the sheets around her body in a weak attempt to cover herself and searches the floor for her clothes—any clothes. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Eight?”

“Jesus.”

“What?”

“I’m usually up at five-thirty.”

Villanelle turns her head in a faux look of shock, then scrunches her face in displeasure. “Well, that’s just ridiculous.” 

Eve pulls on cotton pants and a shirt and runs her fingers through her unruly head of hair. “Not if you’re trying to run a horse ranch it’s not.” 

She locks eyes with Villanelle who stands patiently holding a mug of coffee. She regards Eve warmly, turns her mouth down to her steaming mug and blows softly across its lip. Eve reaches her and without a word takes the mug from Villanelle’s hands and places it on the table, their bodies inches apart. Eve looks down at the blonde’s bare chest, breasts barely covered by her faded chambray shirt. She places tentative fingertips gently at the base of Villanelle’s throat, trails slowly down the exposed skin, down to her navel and around to her hip, grabbing hold—pulling her in. Villanelle visibly shivers at the touch, tilts her head and smiles, curious—eyes clear and bright. Eve doesn’t look away. She stares into Villanelle’s hazel eyes—searching, asking questions she does not have words for.

Villanelle’s eyes flutter and move down to glance briefly at her lips, her voice husky when she asks, “What are you thinking, Eve?” 

Eve says nothing and instead tilts her jaw to just the right angle before gently kissing those soft lips. God are they soft. And so are her breasts, now pressed against Eve and there’s a delicious warmth—it’s bubbling up her body, turning her brain to mush and she’s suddenly aware of the throb between her legs which leads her back to those soft, _soft_ lips and where they’ve been only hours before and she can’t take it any longer because it’s all so much. So much. She finally pulls away with a soft, breathless, “ _Oh_.” 

They pause, both breathing hard. Eve closes her eyes and holds Villanelle tight with her head resting against the blonde’s shoulder. She can hear the mountain bluebirds chirping as the morning sun warms her back through the open kitchen window. She feels Villanelle rest her chin against her head and sigh, her nose buried in Eve’s hair. Time passes slowly as they hold each other. It’s been so long they’ve begun to sway a little, a small dance to prolong their closeness, their only music the birds and the rush-whisper of the far away creek. “I like this,” Villanelle says softly into Eve’s curls as a quick wind picks up and blows through the window, rustling the vases of dried flowers on the mantle. “It’s…” she pauses, trying to hide the strain in her voice. “I just… I really like you, Eve.” 

Eve hums and smiles into Villanelle’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of her and wishing hard to remember this moment forever. She wonders, with a flicker of anxiety, how many more they will have.

\----------

“Why are we going into town again?” 

Eve rides a few feet behind Villanelle, having decided to take out one of her Morgans. He’s one of her most reliable horses, young and fast. Eve plans on selling him eventually—likely to the Pony Express. They are a preferable breed for such a job, though originally bred for the calvary. She kicks him to a canter to meet Villanelle’s pace. Saxano huffs in response to the other horse’s proximity, shaking his head in annoyance or perhaps excitement. Villanelle reigns him in before answering.

“We’re going to do some shopping.” 

The sun is bright and the earth dry and dusty. Even with her hat, Eve finds herself squinting as she turns to look at Villanelle. 

“Shopping?”

Villanelle grins, stealing a sideways glance at Eve and sighing in playful exasperation. “Yes, Eve. Shopping. One of my favorite hobbies. I don’t have much on me but I _do_ have a saddlebag full of money.” She slaps the leather bag to emphasize her point. “You don’t expect me to continue wearing your rancher’s clothes, do you?”

“Well…”

“No offense Eve, but they’re not exactly my style.”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea to––”

“And besides,” she says, ignoring Eve’s protests, “I need a new hat, new guns, and I have a letter to mail to Konstantin. I’m sure he’s worried—that, or he’s one day away from taking off with my share of the bounty.”

“Ok, but I’m just a little concerned––”

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll look out for you, Eve.” 

Losing all patience, Eve raises her voice. “Jesus Villanelle, I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about _you_!”

Villanelle turns to give Eve a questioning look and Eve makes a sudden stop. A cloud of dust rolls past and Villanelle pulls on the reigns quickly, turning Saxano to face Eve. “Why are we stopping?”

“Because we’re here.”

“Oh.” 

The dust clears and Villanelle finds herself outside the first of a long line of shops leading to the town center. There are many people about, men smoking on porches and haggling. Women with their baskets full goods and wears, all laughing and gossiping as they walk from shop to shop. But one by one the townspeople of Franksville take notice of a familiar black horse with the white spotted hide. Suddenly, no one is moving. Women pull each other by the arm to stand off to the side, whispering and gesturing with nods or a pointed finger. The town falls silent with the exception of a squeaking signpost and the ping of chewed tobacco as it hits its mark in a bronze spittoon. 

“Eve,” Villanelle whispers. “They’re staring at us. Why are they staring?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe they’re remembering how you shot Bill in the street and left him for dead,” Eve hisses.

“Oh,” Villanelle says again, her voice now at a whisper. “Yeah, that’s probably it.” She grins nervously and god damnit if it isn’t the most endearing thing Eve’s ever seen. How can an outlaw be so...adorable?

She watches Villanelle shift uncomfortably in her saddle, shoulders tight and jaw clenched like she’s in a stand-off with the entire town. She notices the bounty hunter reflexively lowering her hands to her belt but quickly realizing her holsters are empty. She moves Saxano a few paces back, sidling up next to Eve and turns—face slightly pale. “I reck’n Bill is well liked in town?” Her question comes off as a squeak. 

Eve rolls her eyes. “You’d reck’n right.”

Villanelle looks around, eyes darting nervously, assessing the threat level when she notices a man walking toward them quickly. He’s pulling something from behind him, but she can’t quite make it out.

“Miss Eve!! Well howdy there. It’s been so long!” 

The man’s loud and boisterous greeting seems to quell the anxiety of the townspeople. Conversation picks up at a normal volume and people begin to go about their day, only glancing back to the outlaw occasionally. 

Villanelle sighs with relief and squints to try and make out the man closing in on them. He’s of average height, maybe 6’1”, lean, and walks quite animatedly toward them. She represses a laugh as she notices what appears to be a very large mustache obscuring most of his upper lip. And what’s that he’s pulling behind him? It looks like he’s holding a leash and…  
Villanelle giggles uncontrollably. 

“Shit, I don’t believe this.” Eve smacks Villanelle hard on the arm. “What’s so funny? Get yourself together and please try not to kill this man. Please.” She’s grimacing at Villanelle and eyeing the fast approaching mustache warily.

“Why—” The bounty hunter gasps for breath, clutching her stomach. “Would I—” Her giggling settles to a low broil. “Why would I kill him? He looks like someone glued a rabid squirrel to his face.” This sets Villanelle into another fit of laughter. Eve worries she’ll fall off her horse, or worse, the laughing will tear at her still healing stitches. “And look at what he’s brought you, Eve. Goats!”

Villanelle doesn’t need to say more for Eve to know exactly who this is. And sure enough, Eve can see two small goats trotting behind him, lead on a rope leash, sticking close like a pair of loyal hunting dogs. Eve has to admit, Niko does look pretty ridiculous. But she also knows that while Villanelle may be entertained now, she’ll certainly grow annoyed once he opens his mouth. She decides to try and make this quick.

“Niko! Hello! It’s been a long time,” Eve calls out with a wave. She quickly jabs Villanelle in the ribs.

“Ouch, hey,” Villanelle winces, clutching her side dramatically. 

Eve scoffs. “Oh hush, you were shot on your other side. Don’t be a baby. And please don’t be weird. Whatever you do, do not shoot him. Please.”

Villanelle huffs and rolls her eyes. “Whatever, I’m not going to shoot him, especially because I’m not armed. Seems like you have a lot of catching up to do with this… _strange_ looking gentleman. I’ll meet you at the post office when I’m finished with my shopping.” She reaches out to squeeze Eve’s hand. “Don’t you wander off now, alright?” 

Eve catches the hint of worry in Villanelle’s voice, the genuine concern—for what, she doesn’t know—and it brings a flush to Eve’s cheeks. “Ok,” Eve whispers, looking down at their joined hands, giving a small squeeze of reassurance.

Villanelle smiles and moves her horse to a trot, passing by Niko just as he’s approaching. He looks up at her curiously and then in shock as he realises who she is. Villanelle grins and makes a mock show of tipping her non existent hat to him causing Niko to gasp in surprise and choke on his own spit. Villanelle gives him a bright smile and leaves him wheezing and sputtering, heading for the shops.

“Well?” Eve asks with a sigh. “I don’t suppose you’d like to escort me into town?”

Niko attempts to muffle his cough and nods in agreement. “Of course! I’d been hope’n to talk to ya soon, actually. Gosh, Eve! We have got _a lot_ of catch’n up to do.”

Eve certainly hopes not.

\----------

Two hours later and Eve thinks she’s learned (against her will) everything there is to know about Nigerian dwarf goats and their proper care in a high altitude desert. Eve taps her foot impatiently as she tries to maintain eye contact, giving just the right amount of “yeahs” and “uh-huhs” and the occasional “oh…, neat” so as not to appear rude. His goats, Thelma and Louise, stand silently by as Niko waves his hands animatedly in front of her, lecturing on what she presumes are goats and other goat things and so on and so on. She has no fucking idea what he’s talking about. 

Eve has managed to lead Niko and their exhausting conversation to the porch of the Post Office and Pony Express—Eve’s fairly certain she saw Villanelle walk inside minutes before. She waits patiently for her to reappear, counting on the fact that Niko surely won’t want to regale Villanelle with the trials and tribulations of goat breeding. She just needs to hang on for a little longer even though, to her horror, it seems he’s now moved on from goat breeding and ranching to his entire life’s story.

“And I told them, I said ‘Mom, Dad, now you listen to me. I’m almost 40 years old now and you’re not the boss of me any longer, ya hear? I’m fix’n to own a ranch and I’m go’n to fill it with goats, see? Lots of goats and I’ll find me a good wife and we’ll be happy, just you wait,’ I said. And I sure showed them. Ten goats all my own now and a little plot of land.” Here Niko pauses, his brow furrowed in contemplation. He looks down at his shoes then, his posture suddenly five inches shorter. His shoulders slouch and he wrings his hands, then mumbles, “I ain’t got no wife though.” He looks back up at Eve and nervously tugs on his mustache, completely oblivious to the small meal Thelma is making of his trousers. Louise, on the other hand, looks at Eve with crossed eyes and gives an affirmative bleat. “Hush now, Louise, the adults are talk’n,” Niko whispers softly, as if speaking to a child. “Anyways…” Niko’s smile comes back as he looks up at Eve. “Now, I was think’n—and don’t be afraid to say no, no use in lyin’. I’m not stupid, Eve—I was wondr’n, would you like to visit my ranch some time and join me for supper?”

But before Eve can even think to ask if goat will be on the menu, she watches the large revolving door to the post office fly open and hit Niko violently in the face, knocking him to the floor.

Louise gives out a strangled bleat of surprise.

“Oh heavens me! I didn’t see you there!” [*](https://youtu.be/VhYsbTI1Kio)

Eve looks from the bug-eyed goat to a kneeling Villanelle dressed to the nines in black denim and studded leather, a dark forest-green serape elegantly tied around her neck and draped across her shoulder. She turns to look at Eve, holding a hand to her mouth in a show of mock surprise and gives a quick wink before reaching down to lift Niko up off the floor. His nose is definitely broken.

Villanelle hauls him to a sitting position and delivers a few hard slaps on his back in a poor attempt at dusting him off. She only succeeds in causing him to cough and spray blood down his shirt. He looks dazed and in shock as he slowly looks around. Villanelle crouches, rests her elbows on her knees, and tips her newly purchased hat to get a better look at him. Niko’s watery eyes stare back in fear.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. My name is Villanelle. And you are…?”

“Niko,” Eve answers harshly, appalled at Villanelle’s childish behavior. “His name is Niko and you could have cracked his skull flying through the door like that.” 

“Well maybe Niko here shouldn’t make a habit of standing behind doors.” She grins at him wickedly. “You never know who might come barging through, isn’t that right, Niko?” Villanelle’s smile is saccharine sweet.

Niko slowly nods his head while holding a sleeve to his dripping nose. “Where’s muh ‘oats?”

“Your what?” Villanelle raises an eyebrow, looking in Eve’s direction.

“Mah ‘oats...MAH ‘OATS!”

As if on cue, Louise answers from directly behind him with a sincere “ _BaAaah_ ”. Niko jumps with a yelp of surprise.

“His goats. He’s saying ‘goats’, Jesus Christ.” Eve closes her eyes and rubs at her temples, exhausted. This is a nightmare. 

When Eve opens her eyes again, Villanelle is back to standing, leaving Niko on the ground looking lost and defeated. Eve is furious but she can’t help but give the bounty hunter a once over since she’s seen her this morning. The new outfit is quite something to behold. Form fitting black denim jeans under black leather fringed chaps hug Villanelle’s ass perfectly, and Eve finds herself involuntarily biting her lower lip as she moves up the rest of Villanelle’s body. Her black leather gun belt hangs at a steep 45 degree angle, low on her right thigh at the level of her fingertips. It provides the ideal access for the renowned and fluid quick-draw of her favoured shooting hand—her right. But her victims would be the first to tell you she’s just as deadly with her secondary revolver which sits firmly on her left hip, hidden by the green Mexican serape that drapes over her left shoulder so elegantly. One might think her an officer in some regal outlaw army—a distinguished captain of her guard. But rather than a military sword, she bears new and gleaming Colt single-action Peacemakers and a belt laden with awaiting .44 bullets. And that black gambler hat sitting perfectly atop braided blonde hair—Eve feels a flare of arousal that sets her skin alight. She would love nothing more than to reel Villanelle in by that lethal black belt of hers and kiss her fiercely, but...well, that would have to wait. 

Villanelle notices her staring and her eyes flash mischievously with want. Eve hopes her blush isn’t obvious because she can see that Bill is headed their way as she looks out over the bounty hunter’s shoulder. He’s moving quickly, which is never a good sign.

A wind picks up then, blowing more dust around them. She has to close her eyes against the grit, feels some of it crunch in her mouth and spits. The sun is no longer out. Dark storm clouds are rolling in and there’s an electric charge to the air. She looks back at Villanelle but her eyes have narrowed and her face is set in a scowl as she looks further down the road past Eve. She notices the bounty hunter’s hands instinctively reach for her guns.

And that’s when she hears it, the stampede of many hooves and her stomach sinks with dread. No one in town draws a team that large. Eve doesn’t need to look to know whatever’s coming down the road isn’t local and she fears—with creeping dread—not friendly, either.

Villanelle nods her head for Eve to turn and look and when she does, she sees a massive cloud of red dust moving slowly across darkened plains—a faceless, rolling behemoth against a thunder grey sky. She keeps watching and feels a moment of relief when a strong hand rests protectively at the small of her back. She can feel the bounty hunter’s breath hot against her ear. “Eve...” Villanelle whispers softly and gently moves a tumble of curls to the side to plant a kiss on Eve’s bare neck. Goosebumps travel down her back and across her arms. She can hear Villanelle’s breathing, heavy but calm. Eve closes her eyes, tries to slow her heart rate and match the bounty hunter’s breaths. Villanelle’s hand has moved to her hip and her chest presses against Eve’s back, there’s no longer any space between them. “Eve, listen to me…”

She opens her eyes.

They’re far off. But she sees them now emerging from the mass of dust, a team of eight, maybe ten—black stallions pulling a large coach directly toward town. The crack of a whip reaches them, a few seconds delayed as it ricochets against the buildings.

“Don’t panic...” Villanelle’s voice is a growl, low and rough. She’s excited for what’s coming. A fight, most likely.

A shiver runs down Eve’s spine. They’re not supposed to be here. We had a week. _It’s too soon_. 

They’re not supposed to be here.

“I’ll take care of you, Eve.” Her lips graze Eve’s ear and then she’s gone. Panic blooms in her chest. She hears the bounty hunter cock the hammers of her revolvers and watches as she steps off the porch and onto the road, waiting. Still as a statue. Hands floating above her holsters, itching to draw. The wind is wild and it whips at her cape, revealing the full extent of her arsenal—a knife sheathed at her side and a sawed-off shotgun strapped to her back. 

Eve gasps. She’s armed to the teeth.

Bill finally reaches her, his hand rests on his knee as he tries to catch his breath. His other arm hangs in its sling.

“There you are, Eve!,” he gives Villanelle a wary sideways glance before turning to stare at the approaching team of horses. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for the months and months in between updates. I've been doing this thing called the ABC's of writing.
> 
> Always  
> Be  
> Closing the word document.
> 
> I'm going to try and finish this story before Season 3 gets rolling. I've had this other Villaneve AU floating in my head for a while that I'm pretty excited about. It takes place in a world I'm actually familiar with--hell, I got my degree in it. Maybe writing it won't be as hard? (lol yeah right...)
> 
> Oh, and I made a playlist for this fic because why not:[spotify link](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6pCyS0SnozToaIju9eMuxJ?si=xmi_oK4dToyieM-ghjpM9Q) Every song is about outlaw Villanelle I guess? Idk, it's an aesthetic thing.

**Author's Note:**

> You can hit me up @groovecanon on Tumblr where I have no blog to speak of but stalk everyone else's Villaneve GIFs. I'm a little more active on twitter also @groovecanon
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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